


Flowers for a Ghost

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus lives alone in Muggle London five years after the war, presumed dead by all those who knew him in his previous life.  On a routine day like any other he happens upon a review for a play which piques his curiosity.  He decides to see for himself what all the fuss is about and the evening leads him straight to an old acquaintance.  Written for the Snarry Big Bang at snape_potter on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers for a Ghost

The day began in the same sort of miserable way as the day before it and the day before that. The rain hammered down on the window pane and people on the street outside argued and shouted, laughed and splashed through the puddles until the sounds faded into nothing. The cars moved outside the window, an incessant hum of motors and chatter clear through the thin glass.

Severus poured a mug of tea from his kettle which had gathered lime scale at the base. He moved to the fridge and opened the milk and recoiled a little at the smell, throwing both the useless milk and the now useless tea down the sink. He watched the yellowing liquid swirl with the dark brown of the strong tea and grimaced. He would have to go shopping now, which would mean venturing out in the rain and the crowds of London. Even when it was raining it was crowded. People would jostle, elbow to elbow for room and nobody ever said hello. In that way at least, London suited Severus. People were too busy with their own lives to enquire about the business of a solitary neighbour or frequent visitor to the local supermarket. Five years after the war, life continued. It was just a matter of remembering to get up and trying not to drink whiskey until the night set in and the cover of darkness brought with it the comfort of solitude and silence in his small flat.

Severus went to shower and let the warm water move over his body before he towelled himself dry and rubbed a little more vigorously at the Mark still vivid black on his pale skin. He snorted to himself as he thought of his years under the service of a madman and the scars which covered his body as a daily reminder. Someone had commented on the Mark once – when he had been nursing a warm pint of ale on a rare trip to his local pub.

_“Cool tattoo, mate.”_

_Severus looked up for a moment, not sure where the voice was coming from and focussed on a man in front of him, his arm covered with what appeared to be sleeves, intricate tattoo designs which moved up into his t-shirt. He snorted softly and inclined his head in thanks as he tried to keep his face implacable. It was best to be polite in moments like this, despite the bile he felt rise in his throat._

_“What is it? A snake and a skull, yeah? I like it.”_

_The tattooed man’s friend looked curiously at the tattoo and reached his hand over to touch it as Severus recoiled with a hiss._

_“Do not.”_

_“Alright, mate – keep your hair on.”_

Cool.

Burning hot and achingly painful, used to bring his body from the relative safety and comfort of his personal quarters to a graveyard or a hut somewhere in the middle of nowhere, usually to receive a blast of the Cruciatus curse for what the Dark Lord perceived to be a momentary delay in obeying instructions. There was nothing ‘cool’ about it. Severus looked at his forearm again and pulled on a thick woollen jumper to hide the ugly skull etched onto his flesh. It itched almost painfully but he rather liked the feeling. It reminded him he was still alive.

Severus moved to pick up a small box and opened it, a medal nestled in the centre and he fingered it thoughtfully.

Order of Merlin. First Class.

That had been Potter’s doing. He had spoken about Severus after the trial, told the assembled Wizangemot that Draco Malfoy did not deserve to go to Azkaban and that Severus Snape was a war hero. Severus had watched Potter then, his skin etched with lines which were out of place on his once youthful face – he had always imagined an older Potter to have laughter lines, crinkled little feet around his eyes from years of laughing. Of all people, he had never expected to see Potter’s face marred with frown lines as his lips pursed into a tight line. It simply wasn’t Harry. 

Severus had been awarded the medal posthumously and he had slunk from the Ministry to lose himself in the grime and crowds of Muggle London until the press surrounding the war and his death had receded. The medal had been left in the Ministry with the others of those that had died in the final Battle and before he left, Severus had taken it. He wasn’t sure why he kept it, a constant reminder of a time he would rather forget. Validation, he supposed. The reminder that his work under the service of the Dark Lord hadn’t been for nothing – for Potter had won the war, in the end.

_“He’s only gone and done it.”_

_Severus ducked into the shadows as his body trembled with disbelief. He had seen Potter – dying on the ground in the Forbidden Forest and now he was here – broken and shaking and covered in blood but very much alive. Severus felt his breath hitch at the sight of him, as a weight which had settled on his shoulders lifted and he found himself able to breathe more easily while the urge to vomit eased._

_“I need…” Harry stood as people bundled him into their arms, his face smeared with dirt and blood, sweat and tears as he trembled. Severus wanted to yank people away from him. Potter didn’t need this, he needed to process the deaths of those he had lost – he didn’t need victory songs and being nearly strangled by overzealous witches and wizards he barely knew._

_“We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter’s the one…”_

_The refrains of a ridiculous song could be heard from the castle and Severus shook his head furiously as people surrounded Potter. Severus watched as Harry clutched his side as if in pain and Severus could see blood through his t-shirt._

_“He’s injured, you damn fools. Leave him be.”_

_“I need…please…” Potter tried again to say something but it seemed futile as those around him sang and danced and patted him on the back as he winced and managed a brittle smile._

_With a low growl, Severus watched as Harry was pulled to the castle which continued to burn. He wanted to go after him and hex anyone who tried to touch Harry. The bodies of those he loved were still warm as people danced around him. Severus could only hope that Potter’s friends would realise he did not need victory songs and medals now. He needed comfort and peace to grieve._

_Severus turned away from the sight which caused him untold fury and allowed himself to finally feel relief – relief that Potter had lived, in the end. After a long time when there was only fire, darkness and the bodies of the dead no one had cared enough about to collect, he moved towards Hogwarts gates, his robes shredded and torn._

_With one final look back at the battlefield, he moved into the shadows._

_To Potter and the rest of the Wizarding World, Severus Snape was no more._

_Severus was quite sure it was better that way, for all concerned._

Severus had made no attempt to contact anyone after the battle and he felt quite sure the Wizarding world would be better off without him. Potter had the Weasleys, he was to be married, or so Severus had heard before he left although he refused to acknowledge the hollow feeling the news left in his heart. He made a point not to get the _Prophet_ delivered any longer. It would do him no good to dwell over the ghosts of the past. He sometimes wished he had died as everyone had supposed – some days it seemed like it would be easier than living, and when he forced himself out of bed in the morning he wondered why he was still living at all.

Severus tugged on some fitted black cotton trousers and laced his belt through the loops as he moved from his small flat and locked the door carefully behind him, after he had placed his medal back underneath the sink. He wasn’t sure why he hid it because he never had any visitors, but he supposed you couldn’t be too careful. 

He moved down the dark corridor as the fluorescent light on the wall buzzed and flickered. He heard voices raised and screaming in a language he didn’t understand and shivered.

_“Please, Tobias.”_

_His mother cowered on the floor of the kitchen. Severus never understood why she didn’t use her wand at times like this – why she never even raised her hands or her arms to shield herself from the blows._

_He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked in place as the tears coursed down his cheeks. He heard his mother scream as the leather lashed through the air and then everything was silent._

_“Shut up, you snivelling little wretch.”_

_Severus saw the black boots at his feet and he could hear his mother in the background, her breathing ragged from her tears. He didn’t move but he gulped back his tears and tried to stay very still._

_He went to his mother when his father left._

_She would never look him in the eye as he cleaned her wounds._

_Severus wondered if it was because he hadn’t been able to protect her or if she wished that just once, Severus would take the force of his father’s belt and fists._

_She wasn’t around long enough for him to ask._

Hogwarts had been his refuge for a time at least. Like Potter, he would spend his holidays there as often as he possibly could and enjoyed the school most when the other students had taken the Hogwarts Express back to London.

All good things must come to an end.

_“Look who it is…this is going to be fun. Why don’t you come and sit with us, Snivellus”. _

_“Leave me alone, Black.”_

_“Come the fuck on, Moony – I know you don’t like the snakes any more than I do.”_

_“Padfoot…”_

_“Oh fine, I’ll just have to do it myself.”_

_Severus moved to get away from Black and as he walked past, his bag tore open and his books fell everywhere. He moved to the floor to pick up his books and hid behind a wall of hair to avoid the stares of Black and the wolf._

_“You’re pathetic. Disgusting and pathetic.” Severus looked at the boot by his face and flinched back from it as his hand stilled on his book. Black with silver buckles – just like his father’s._

_“Leave it, Padfoot – it’s not funny.”_

_“Oh fine. You’re such a spoilsport, Moony.”_

_Severus waited for Remus and Black to leave the library before he gathered the rest of his books and made his way to the dungeons as he kept his face hidden because he was damned if he would ever let anyone see his tears._

Potter and Black had always been the worst. The wolf at least tried to keep them in check. Severus winced as he remembered how he had sought out companionship with such blind foolishness.

Safety in numbers.

_“You don’t need to put up with this, Severus.”_

_Lucius Malfoy sat next to Severus and spoke with his usual cultured tones. Severus noticed how Lucius grimaced a little at being forced to sit on the floor and couldn’t help but smile at it, even as he clutched his legs against his chest and tried to hide inside himself._

_“I hate them.”_

_Lucius shushed him and stroked his shoulder. The touch was cold but offered more comfort than Severus had ever had before._

_“You don’t need them. Filthy Mudblood lovers and Pureblood traitors. Join me – we can be strong together. You don’t have to be alone again.”_

_“I don’t?”_

_“No. We want you Severus – we need you.”_

_“And we’ll get them back? One day…Potter and Black, I mean.”_

_“Oh yes, we will get them back.”_

_Severus looked up and saw the way Lucius smiled._

_He shivered and clutched his legs tighter to his chest._

_“Okay, just tell me what I need to do.”_

Severus moved through the crowds and noticed how glassy eyed commuters full of daydreams went past him without once focussing in on his own face as each person carefully avoided eye contact, lost in their thoughts. Severus slipped his hand into his pocket to check for the cool silver lily he had found in his robes the night he ‘died’. He still didn’t recollect how it had come into his possession, but he had kept it in his pocket and then by his bedside table every day for five years – he felt it was important.

He moved to the door of the supermarket and shivered momentarily under the chill from the air vents before he moved somewhat listlessly to pick up a few unappetising looking ready meals and a bottle of whiskey. He had become rather fond of Muggle whiskey and the odd glass of Merlot with his food which he treated himself to on occasion. He selected a bottle and checked the label carefully before he put it into his basket and reached for some chocolate. It was habit, more than anything, and as his fingers touched the purple and silver wrapper, his eyes flitted closed for a moment.

_“Potter, you have chocolate all over your lips. Are you completely incapable of eating like an adult, or must you always shovel your food into your mouth as if you won’t eat for a week?”_

_“Sod off, Sna-Professor – it’s just a bit of chocolate.” Potter wiped his lips with a napkin and then grinned at Severus. “Better?”_

_“Barely. Do stop grinning inanely.”_

_“Whatever. Remus gave it to me. It’s to help with the Dementors.” Potter sat back in his chair in Severus’ office and popped another square of chocolate into his mouth, then pushed the bar along the desk until it connected with Severus’ fingers, silently offering him a piece._

_“The wolf knows more than that idiot Lockhart, at least.” With a snort, Severus took the chocolate and felt his face scrunch into a scowl as he looked at it before gingerly breaking off one small square. He pushed it back to Potter and then put the chocolate in his mouth and sighed as he closed his eyes and bit back a moan of contentment. He hadn’t had chocolate for years. The last time he had eaten chocolate was at Hogwarts when he had sneaked some out of the Great Hall and found somewhere quiet to enjoy his dessert without being heckled by Black or Potter. He could almost smell Hogwarts and the small space he made his own where no one would disturb him and he could curl up with a book and just enjoy his solitude._

_“Good, isn’t it?”_

_Severus was disturbed from his reverie and snapped his eyes open to see Potter looked almost proud – as if he had made the chocolate._

_“It’s acceptable. I don’t enjoy sugary confections as much as you seem to – how you can drink that vile beverage is quite beyond me.” Severus nodded at the glass of frothy Butterbeer in front of Potter who shrugged and took a deep gulp as he smacked his lips._

_“It’s bloody lovely. The Dursleys never allowed me to have anything sweet – I think I must have overdosed on sugar since I came to Hogwarts.”_

_“Indeed.” Severus nodded and then sniffed and looked around the room as the fire crackled in the background, the flames casting their shadows over Potter’s face. “Albus is late, when do you suppose he intends to get here? I can’t sit around babysitting all day.”_

_“I’m hardly a child, Professor.” Potter glared and then shrugged and looked away._

_“No, I suppose you aren’t – not anymore.” Severus heard the hum of surprise from Potter and glared at him as he jabbed a finger in the air towards Potter giving him what he hoped was a menacing sort of look. “Although you still behave like one for a large portion of the time – anyone would think you were still a First Year at times with chocolate all over your fingers and all of that messing around you do on that blasted broom of yours. We are fighting a war, Potter, in case you had forgotten.”_

_Potter had looked at Severus and for one insane moment Severus wondered if Potter was going to bite his finger._

_He didn’t, of course. Instead he sat back in his chair and hooked his ankle over his knee as he contemplated Severus for a long moment. Severus noticed the stubble around his chin and the way his body had lengthened and filled out between his fifth and his sixth year. Albus had arranged for them to meet here to discuss a master plan he wanted Severus and Potter to assist with. Severus eyed Potter with some suspicion, still not entirely sure they should be placing all of their hopes on the reckless little brat._

_“I know everyone says you’re a bit of a miserable git, Professor, but I think you’re alright.”_

_“Do shut up, you’re giving me a migraine.”_

_Potter shook his head and laughed, as the Floo signalled the arrival of Albus and the conversation was over._

Severus sighed, took the chocolate and dropped it into his basket with some bread and some fruit, which he supposed he should have simply to keep himself healthy. He moved to the till and listened to the beeps as the items slid along the scanner and were placed haphazardly into a thin bag.

“That’s going to be forty pounds and sixty two pence. The bag is ten pence.”

“Fine.” Severus counted out his money carefully and then handed over the crisp notes with a little reluctance. It was barely enough food to last the weekend, but whiskey was expensive and even his cheap wine had set him back seven pounds. He didn’t work and survived on the little he had, fortunate at least that a Galleon seemed to stretch much further than the Muggle pound when exchanged. He was hardly rich as a Muggle but he had enough in his vaults to survive without a job. Albus had seen to that. After making Severus a murderer, he seemed to believe he was due funds as recompense for the two years which followed Albus’ death as Severus had been ostracised from the Order, his duplicity a secret from everyone apart from Potter. 

Blood money. 

It made Severus sick to his stomach to spend it and his appetite dissipated as he moved from the store. He loitered in the doorway and looked at the papers which contained headlines about various celebrities Severus knew nothing about. His nose wrinkled in distaste at some of the pictures on the front pages of blonde women who pouted and posed for a hidden camera and he flipped through a less offensive paper without any real interest in its content. He couldn’t vote for Muggle politicians and he found he didn’t much care what they did, he read more for a sign of the world he had left than for information about the world he had joined. His fingers traced the reviews in the arts section, the only area he ever really browsed with much interest and stilled over a particular review.

_Flowers for a Ghost - by R. S. Black._

_James Potter’s mundane life changes forever when he is called to fight a war for a world he never knew existed until his eighteenth birthday._

_A heart wrenching tale of love, war and a doomed romance play out over two and a half hours as the play leaves the audience grieving for what might have been. The script is full of menacing undertones with line after line of poetic prose as the two male leads engage in acerbic and often darkly humorous dialogue._

_Having taken the Box Office by storm in its opening weeks, this somewhat controversial story of an unconventional romance looks set to become the West End hit of the summer. If the playwright’s notoriously private lifestyle and reticence to give interviews is anything to go by, there has been much speculation that there are parts of this story which may be autobiographical and the name R.S. Black is on everyone’s lips._

_If you plan to see one play this summer, be sure to see this._

Severus dropped some coins into the honesty box by the newspapers not even caring he had probably overpaid for the damned thing as he stuffed it into his bag and walked in something of a daze back to his flat. 

R.S. Black. 

The surname was common enough and the fact that the ‘R’ and the ‘S’ happened to be the initials of Remus and Sirius respectively was hardly anything which might arouse suspicion. That being said, Severus was a suspicious man and the added coincidence of a lead character named ‘James Potter’ in a story about a young boy fighting a war roused his interest. The review did not provide conclusive proof of a link to Potter’s story, the facts of which were entirely different to the story of this play which appeared to be some sort of romance, but nonetheless it felt like a message of sorts. Severus drummed his fingers on the paper and frowned as he sat back on his sofa. Unlikely as it may be, he had been taught not to believe in coincidences or at the very least to be distrustful of them.

With a frustrated growl because he hated the bloody theatre, he picked up his phone which he rarely used and placed an order to an impossibly cheerful sounding Muggle for tickets to a matinee performance of the blasted play. He was gleefully informed how lucky he was that a school party had recently been forced to cancel and he treated himself to a slow smirk at his own good fortune and paid for his ticket with a grumble about the cost. He put down the phone after getting the confirmation of his purchase and cut the Muggle off mid-spiel about some sort of horrific sounding musical. 

With a shudder, Severus stood and carefully cut out the review which he folded and put into his box with his Order of Merlin. He opened his bottle of wine and poured a half glass which he sipped at thoughtfully as he watched the patterns formed by the rain on the window.

_“Once more unto the breach.”_

_Severus looked at Potter who sat opposite him and glared into a small measure of whiskey Severus had allowed him to sample. It was the night before they were going into battle, after all, and the boy was seventeen. If he was expected to kill the most powerful living wizard tomorrow, then Severus thought it was hardly the time to start worrying about whether Potter was old enough to drink._

_“Indeed. Shakespeare.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I wouldn’t have imagined you to be a fan of Muggle literature, Potter.” Severus looked curiously at the boy and snorted softly at the grimace on Potter’s face as he gulped at his whiskey._

_“I can read you know.”_

_“I never doubted it for a moment.” Severus felt his lips twitch and settled back as he watched the way Potter looked up and glared at him._

_“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.”_

_“Latin, Potter – very impressive.” Severus sipped his whiskey and contemplated Potter for a moment. “You have been reading war poetry? A little Wilfred Owen before battle?”_

_“Not really.” Potter shrugged and then flicked his eyes to Severus. “It just sort of seemed like the right sort of thing to say.”_

_“It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.” Severus nodded. “I suppose it is rather fitting although I have no wish for either one of us to die.”_

_Potter stayed silent at that and then drained his whiskey with a grimace and pushed his glass to Severus for another small measure._

_“Neither can live while the other survives. I understand it now, you see.”_

_“Do you?” Severus looked at the bottle and then poured himself a generous measure of the whiskey, biding his time. “I suppose you are planning to place yourself directly in the crossfire then?”_

_“I must.”_

_“You will live. You have more lives than a cat, Potter.”_

_“Do you really believe that?”_

_Severus nodded and sipped at his whiskey as he looked at Potter. Despite what Albus had told him, he did believe it._

_“Why?”_

_“Because I have to.”_

_Severus hissed as his Mark burned and he sloshed his whiskey over the side of his glass as he dropped it to the table and clutched his forearm._

_“Are you…?”_

_“I’m quite alright, Potter.” Severus knew he spoke between gritted teeth and stood, with a look at Potter who seemed small, frightened and very alone. “I must go.”_

_“Okay.” Potter stood and then grabbed on to Severus’ arm. “Don’t leave me. I mean, don’t get yourself killed. After the war…I…Professor…Severus, I…”_

_“Hush.” Severus held up his free hand to cut Potter off before he could make the sort of rash declaration people sometimes make when they think they are going to die. “We can discuss it when the war is over.”_

_“Then you…?” Potter looked desperately at him and Severus heard the words catch in his throat. He sighed and then shook Potter’s hand off him, as he ran his fingers down Potter’s face gently and then cupped his cheek in his hand._

_“There will be time enough to talk after the war but…I know…and I am not opposed.”_

_With a strangled sound, Potter wrapped his arms around Severus and Severus pressed his lips into the messy tangle of Potter’s hair. He smelt like citrus fruits._

_“Please…”_

_“I have to go.” Severus disentangled himself after a moment and adjusted his robes. He looked at Potter whose face was ashen and wondered what he was thinking. “Good luck, Potter.”_

_“You too.”_

_Potter’s voice was quiet and cracked over his words._

_Severus stepped into the Floo and resisted every urge to look back._

Severus opened his eyes and sipped at his wine again. He shifted in his seat and felt the armchair rough against his back which was covered with the scars of the past. He looked at his forearm for the second time that day and pulled his jumper up to examine the Mark. 

It was still dark against his skin, a thick black ugly blotch which stood out against his pale forearm. He had thought after the war it might fade, disappear or at least return to the inactive scar it had been after the murder of the Potters. He frowned at it and ran his fingers over the skull and the snake and wondered, not for the first time, why it didn’t appear to have faded at all since the war. Sometimes when he woke up at night, caught somewhere between sleep and waking, he thought he felt it burn again and he would clutch his arm as he felt as if he was being summoned.

He was being summoned yet he had nowhere to go.

Those were the nights when Severus would wake up bathed in sweat and he would try to recall his dreams, to find a link between them. 

Potter was always in them. 

Sometimes they were the kind of dreams that made Severus feel ashamed as he remembered the vision of an older Potter on his knees as he grinned up at Severus with his lips plump from kissing. He remembered the feel of Potter’s hands which tugged at his trousers and the blissful wet warmth of Potter’s mouth. After those dreams, he would wake to find his sleep trousers sticky and damp in a manner which was entirely unbefitting for a man of his age. He would scrub himself clean and try not to think about the images or wonder why he could still feel thick strands of Potter’s hair between his fingers.

On other occasions, he would wake with his throat hoarse from his silent screams as a red-eyed Potter focused the Cruciatus curse on him again and again. 

He dreamt of a cupboard on occasion and of plump fists which connected with hard punches on his young body. Severus always remembered those scenes from his disastrous Occlumency lessons with Potter who would round on him, flushed and panting and furious at Severus and the rest of the world as he tried desperately to close his mind to Severus’ unwelcome intrusions. In his dreams, it was Severus himself who cowered in the cupboard as a young child and felt the fists move over his body. Sometimes Potter replaced Severus as he would watch helplessly while an eleven year old boy with a scar on his forehead cowered and trembled back from the lashes of his father’s belt.

The worst dreams of all were when Potter would stand there and hold out a hand to Severus. In those dreams, Hogwarts burned behind them and the ground was muddy and littered with the bodies of the dead. Severus would look at Potter then and see his face smeared with blood, grime, sweat and tears. He would look at the hand outstretched to him and he heard Potter’s pleas as he begged Severus to stay. Every night when they met in those dreams, Severus would dismiss the hand offered to him and turn away. 

It was on those nights that his Mark burned the fiercest.

Severus always told himself on mornings after those dreams that he had been right to leave, that Potter would do much better without him. He hoped that despite all of the mistakes he had made in his miserable life that in that, at least, he had been correct. It would simply not do to think any different. 

The play was on Thursday so he only had three more days to drag himself out of bed, shower, scrub the skin which would never be free from the marks of his mistakes and think about the war.

Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.

OooooOOooooO

The rain still continued long into Thursday, and Severus felt like he had when the Dark Lord had grown in strength and the Dementors would surround the castle or Hogsmeade. He remembered those days well and whenever he saw clouds in the sky, he sometimes had to look more closely at them to check that there was nothing in the skies which the Muggles around him couldn’t see.

Tonight, the grey streets shone with rain as Muggles moved past him and splashed him in their hurry. He scowled as he tried to move through the West End crowds as bright lights shone around him and pictures of lions, beaming women and what appeared to be Muggle rock stars, welcomed him to the theatre district.

He finally found the theatre which was thankfully on a somewhat quieter backstreet and didn’t have any of the garish signs outside as some of the others did. Severus blanched at the thought of attending a musical of all things and shuddered slightly before he moved through the door into the small, busy space.

He moved through the crowds with his face kept in a careful scowl to discourage polite conversation as he made his way to two ticket attendants who were gossiping and appeared to be ignoring him as he tried to get their attention by glaring at them and tapping his foot. It seemed to have no impact whatsoever and he bristled slightly as he waited.

“He’s here tonight, they reckon.”

“No he isn’t, you’re kidding?”

“He is – I’m telling you. Cathy was talking to Marcus who heard it from Jonesy. Black’s going to be in the audience tonight.”

“No way.”

“Yep, I swear it’s true.” Whatever her name was giggled and leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper to her colleague. “And I hear he’s _fit_ \- really gorgeous Cathy said – all dark and mean looking.”

“No _way_?” Severus growled at the gormless looking attendant who seemed to only really be capable of expressing his surprise in one way and he thrust his ticket under their noses.

“If you have quite finished.”

“Sorry, Sir.” The girl didn’t look sorry at all and barely cast a glance at his ticket before she gestured to a row a few seats ahead and waved her hand quickly. “Just through there.”

“Most helpful.” Severus gave them his best sneer but they had both stopped paying attention to him again and continued their discussion about the mysterious Black. Severus wondered when he had stopped intimidating people. He supposed it must have been when he stopped wearing robes.

After lingering for a moment longer he realised he wasn’t’ about to hear anything more interesting than a rather disturbing discussion about Black’s looks and shuddered as he moved to his seat. 

He frowned when he realised he had been seated in an awkward spot right to the very edge of the row, but he could hardly complain when he was thankfully close to the exit. 

_“All dark and mean looking.”_

It certainly didn’t sound like Potter, or at least not the Potter Severus knew. 

_“You look like your father, he used to swagger about the place too, with that mutt of a godfather of yours.”_

_“Don’t you dare speak about Sirius like that.”_

_Potter curled his hands into fists and rounded on Severus furiously. He was dressed in his Quidditch kit and Severus thought he made the whole room look untidy._

_“Why not?” Severus gave Potter his best sneer. “He was certainly never polite to me – a bully through and through, just like your father.”_

_“Don’t!” Potter snapped at him then and moved close to Severus, his eyes furious. “I hate you sometimes. I really hate you. I don’t know why Dumbledore wants us to work together, but I don’t trust you – I will never trust you.”_

_“Oh grow up, Potter.” Severus turned from Potter, then, because he couldn’t bear to see his face, pinched and angry and full of furious fire. He moved to his desk and shuffled his papers, his back to Potter. “This conversation is over. You can come back when you are prepared to behave with civility.”_

_Severus flinched as the door slammed and Potter exited._

When the boy first came to Hogwarts, Severus couldn’t see beyond Potter’s father. In that year, Severus observed Potter become a young Quidditch player and saw him surrounded by friends who appeared to care for him. He would have had no hesitation in describing Potter as confident, cocksure, arrogant and loved. After Potter’s fifth year, he saw more of the boy’s own memories and wondered how he could have been so blind when he prided himself on his intuition. He had failed to see _Harry_ , the child who knew nothing of magic and who came to Hogwarts undernourished, eager to please, brave to the point of foolhardiness and hoping for something better. 

It was in Potter’s second year that Severus saw the first flashes of Riddle as he watched the darker side of Potter come out when he duelled. When Severus had first heard the boy speak Parseltongue, he had wondered then at the connection between Potter and the Dark Lord. He remembered the sound of the sibilant language from Potter’s lips and shivered a little as the sound still reminded him of numerous colleagues and friends tortured and killed by the Dark Lord during the war.

_“Severus! Help me!...Severus…please…please…”_

Charity Burbage, and countless others who encountered him during his moments with the Dark Lord, would beg him for their life. Severus would retain the same implacable mask and he had never shown them any mercy. Only one man had that, in the end.

_“Severus…please.”_

_Severus raised his wand and pointed it directly at Albus._

_“Avada Kedavra.”_

_He watched as the green light hit Albus square in the chest and winced as he saw the body arch and then fall, like a rag-doll, over the battlements and out of sight._

By his third year, Potter had grown. He had shot up over the summer and he spent much of his time in trouble. Severus had understood why Potter struggled around Dementors although he would never say as much to the brat. He understood that sometimes it was tempting to lose oneself in their presence and to listen to the voices of the dead, just to remember. 

That year was all about Black, of course, and the damned wolf. It had been too much for Severus then, to see Potter walk through the school flanked by his wolf and then to learn of the fact that Black still lived, and lived under the protection of Albus no less. He thought of the map he had discovered on Potter’s person and closed his eyes for a moment.

_“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter. He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers ... The resemblance between you is uncanny.”_

His lips quirked into a slow smile at the memory. Potter had never really strutted – he saw that later on – or at least not like his father once had. Potter had an awkward sort of gait, a shuffle and a tendency to rub the nape of his neck with his hand when he was nervous. He was clumsy and sometimes unsure on his feet, only ever really elegant when he was in the air. 

Severus hummed at the memory of Potter on his broom as he swept through the air in battle with a Norwegian Ridgeback. Fourth year, of course, when his own Mark had returned and Igor had come back into his life as he ranted and raved about his own Mark while Severus attempted to calm him. He had known by the end of that year what he had to do and he had seen a difference in Potter. The boy had seen death first hand, as the war came closer and his world became darker. 

Severus remembered Potter with his shaggy mop of hair that year in his Triwizard leathers and kit and remembered thinking how young he looked. Like a boy trying to play an adult game, which in some ways he was. He was growing older and stronger but he was still just a boy, even then – a boy who had to learn how to fight to kill and had to learn quickly.

Severus gripped his hand onto the arm rest as he thought of the next year and the violation of his own memories and felt his face twist into a silent grimace.

_Potter. In his rooms and in the Pensieve there, looking at his most cherished memories. Severus had never felt so furious as he strode towards Potter, his body nearly shaking with anger, and yanked him from the stone basin._

_“Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?" Severus shook Harry so hard he nearly dislodged his glasses._

_“I -- didn't–”_

_He ignored the protests from the brat and flung him across the floor with all of his might._

_“You will not repeat what you saw to anybody!”_

_“No – of course I won’t._

_Severus wanted to scream at Potter to get out, to leave immediately, but he saw himself then just for a moment. He saw his black boot on the floor by a cowering Potter who scrambled back in an attempt to put distance between Severus and himself and then rose unsteadily to his feet, his cheeks flushed._

_Snivelling little wretch._

_Severus heard his father in that moment and backed away. “Get out.” Severus’ voice was quiet and cool and he tried to control the fury in it as he turned his back to Potter._

_“Please – I wasn’t prying. I didn’t mean to pry.”_

_“I believe I asked you to get out.” Severus tensed when he felt Potter behind him and an arm land on his shoulder._

_“I…I’m sorry for them. For my father, for Sirius – I see why you don’t like them – why you didn’t like them.”_

_Severus stayed silent because if Potter’s invasion of his privacy was bad, his pity was even worse._

_“Potter.” He heard his own voice, a low growl into the quiet room._

_“Hogwarts has always been safe. It felt like home to me, it still does.” Harry paused, and then Severus heard him move to the door. “I’m sorry my father spoiled that feeling for you. I’m so bloody sorry.”_

_With a choked sound Harry left the room and Severus stood with his hands balled into fists until the door closed. He picked up the nearest jar and with a snarl, flung it at the closed door._

_It shattered into hundreds of pieces as Severus stared at the closed door long after Potter had left._

The next year, of course, had been the one Albus had coerced Severus into working with the irritating little twit, and they had spent far longer than Severus would have wished in one another’s company. It was from those times that Severus had the best memories of Potter, and those were the ones he returned to again and again.

_“All dark and mean looking.”_

No, he would have described Potter as many things, some complimentary and some less so, but whatever his views of Potter he never once thought of him as dark and mean. Severus had seen enough darkness in his time and enough true evil to know what its face looked like. Potter wasn’t dark and he certainly wasn’t mean. It made Severus wonder if his suspicions were entirely misplaced.

He looked around impatiently, but the play didn’t seem to be any closer to starting. A young couple in front of him were sharing boiled sweets from a bag which rustled loudly as they whispered and giggled to one another. He glared at the back of their heads hoping they would have the good sense to put the bag away when the play began and grimaced when he thought they might take the darkened room as an opportunity to kiss one another. Severus went through some of his favourite spells in his head and entertained himself with thinking of various ways he might hex them if they tried anything like that – assuming he still used magic, of course. 

After a while, Severus let the chatter around him merge into a distant hum and closed his eyes for a moment as he wondered what to expect from tonight. He fingered the torn bit of newspaper in his pocket again, and thought of the references to romance. Other than his relationship with Ginny Weasley, which was largely a figment of her mother’s imagination from the little Severus had managed to observe, he hadn’t been aware Potter had experienced much romance in his life. He had seen his fumbled kiss with the Quidditch playing Hufflepuff of course, but he had always wondered what Potter’s inclinations really were. There were times when Potter sometimes looked at Severus with that far off sort of stare that Severus used all of his strength to ignore. He had read that this could happen when two people worked together closely under life or death circumstances. He was quite sure Potter would come to his senses after the war.

Severus closed his eyes for a brief moment as the chatter faded away into nothing and all he could hear was Potter.

_“You can’t…you can’t do it anymore, it’s going to kill you.”_

_Severus hissed and looked up at Potter from his position on the floor, his robes charred and his face bloody. He wondered if his ribs were broken again – it certainly felt like it. He gritted his teeth to bite back a groan of agony._

_“Potions…stop bloody talking and help.”_

_“Oh crap…I’m sorry.” Potter moved swiftly to the laboratory, and Severus could see him fumble with some bottles out of the corner of his eye as he heard him bite back a curse when he nearly dropped one._

_“ Today, Potter.”_

_“Sure. Here you go.” Potter crouched down onto his knees and took Severus’ chin in his hand, gently tipping his head back and pouring some of the potion down his throat. Severus drank it as, despite Potter’s incompetence, he hoped he would at least know better than to pick out a bottle of poison – not that being poisoned right now would be an entirely terrible occurrence._

_“Better.” As the potion took effect and mitigated the aftershocks from the Cruciatus he winced again. His voice came out thick and raspy and breathless as he muttered to Potter. “Broken. Broken ribs. You know – do as I taught you.”_

_He thought he heard Potter moan and was startled at the raw, animalistic pain in the sound until he realised his own mouth was open and the sound was coming from his own lips. He snapped them shut and winced again as he heard Potter casting a spell before everything went black._

Severus blinked his eyes open and noticed that the lights had gone down in the theatre. He realised that he was sandwiched into his seat, with someone next to him and blocking his path to the exit. One of the reasons he hated the theatre was the lack of space. He let out a low, frustrated grumble as he tried to stretch his legs a little with no success. He shifted for moment longer before the curtain came up. 

On the stage, a lone actor knelt at what appeared to be a grave. In his hand, he clutched a bunch of lilies which he placed gently down on the floor of the stage as he touched his hand to the cold looking stone. In the background, a montage of images played alongside some music, the images of battle and of one man in particular.

Severus frowned at the picture on the stage in front of him, and then watched as the play began to unfold. 

The setting of the scene was innocuous enough, and it was hardly as though the story began with a young boy in a cupboard who discovered he was a Wizard at the youthful age of eleven, but there was still something familiar about the protagonist. Severus shifted in his seat and reached his hand into the pocket of his trousers to feel the cool metal of the silver lily beneath his fingers. Even though he couldn’t remember how the flower came into his possession, it gave him some comfort of sorts, and the cool touch of the flower against his warm skin relaxed the tension in his shoulders.

The scene on the stage shifted, and the monologue and flashes of music were replaced by the conversation between two men, filled with sarcastic back and forth commentary on one another, the tension between them palpable. The more Severus watched the more he felt his heart start to drum in his chest.

“Well, look who it is. Our new celebrity.”

Severus gripped his hand around the silver lily in his pocket and closed his eyes just for a moment as the words so familiar to him surrounded him and filled his senses.

The theatre pulsed around him as the two men on the stage argued and Severus remembered.

_Hogwarts. The air was sharp and clean, fresh with the new season. The leaves furnished the floor of the grounds in burnt sienna and crisp browns. Severus watched two shadowy figures twist and turn in the half-light of dusk as their brooms dipped and dived and raced together to the ground before they pulled back up sharply and headed into the orange sky._

_“He needs you, Severus – he will need you well into his adulthood. His feelings for you are fire and ice – extremes which he cannot understand at the moment, and likely will not understand until he is older.”_

_“He hates me.” Severus’ voice was cold and smooth as he turned from the window and the two figures enjoying the twilight._

_“No. Not in the slightest. He simply doesn’t know that yet.”_

_Severus turned to Albus and gave him one of his better scowls._

_“Why must you always talk in riddles? You are no better able to see the future than Sybil.”_

_“I suppose it is simply intuition.” Albus smiled at Severus and his eyes hid a multitude of secrets. “I believe your feelings for him will change too, over time – when you see he is neither his father nor his mother.”_

_Severus snorted and tapped his wand against the desk at a stray fly which had landed there and remembered his childhood in a flash of bright, hot, Technicolor before he righted himself and schooled his face carefully once more._

_“He is his father’s son, through and through – arrogant, reckless, cocksure and just as infuriating as his father ever was.”_

_“No.” Albus shook his head as he touched his wand to his temple and pulled a strand of silver from it, which he deposited into his Pensieve with a swirl of his wand before he turned back to Severus. “Harry had a very different upbringing to James – his outlook on life has been much changed by his years with the Muggles. You and he are more similar than you realise.”_

_“We are nothing alike.” Severus glared at Albus and stood. “Are we quite finished?”_

_“Yes, for now.” Albus reached out his hand and touched Severus lightly on the arm. “You will see, in time. Not this year or even next but you will understand.”_

_“Good evening, Albus.”_

_With a soft snort, Severus turned to leave the Headmaster’s office and moved swiftly to his dungeons with a last glance outside._

_The sun had set and the two figures had disappeared, leaving the grounds quiet once more._

Severus looked back at the stage where the two men had finished arguing, and he watched as the acrimonious relationship became steadily more solid and even affectionate. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the stage as he realised he was watching himself through Potter’s eyes. The moments he remembered when he wondered what Potter was thinking – he saw now exactly what Harry had been thinking and how his feelings for Severus developed with heart breaking intensity.

Heart breaking, because Severus knew how the story would end.

The body next to him shifted and stood in the darkness, but Severus hardly noticed and blinked against the intrusive pause in the dialogue as the lights went up for the intermission. He stayed firmly in his seat, not interested in ice cream or snacks and he thought about what he had seen. 

He had known Potter had begun to develop feelings for him before the final battle. He suspected Potter had been close to revealing his feelings before Severus had left and they had played their final card in the fight against the Dark Lord. Severus had read all about it. He understood the mentality of trench warfare and camaraderie between two soldiers. He understood why Potter had believed himself in love with Severus for a fleeting moment, but he had always expected things would quickly change after the war. 

Without the need to meet frequently to strategize, and in the absence of the strange sort of adrenaline of going into battle to share with one another, what use would Potter have for him after everything? He was young and handsome – he had numerous admirers and Molly Weasley had almost planned Potter’s wedding to her daughter if Severus’ conversations with Arthur during the war were anything to go by. A future with Severus would have stifled the boy and taken him to dark places he should have been able to avoid after the war. Severus was no better as a lover than he was as a Professor and could be equally abrupt and curt in his personal dealings. He was not a man for romance, and he felt somehow that Potter deserved to be romanced – surrounded by family and friends in a home filled with laughter.

Severus had imagined Potter since the war had ended. He imagined him almost every night before he went to sleep and the picture in his mind was always the same. He saw Harry on his broom with a young boy with a shock of dark hair and green eyes, and a young girl with orange hair watching and clapping in the background. Severus imagined the garden full of blossom and a small vegetable patch which the family might use to grow their own produce. He sometimes wondered if Longbottom would have taught Potter how to grow lettuce and tomatoes. He imagined Miss Granger and the youngest Weasley boy sitting at a large oak table while children beat small fists on the table asking for food as the adults laughed fondly at their behaviour while they hushed them and taught them manners.

_“You eat like you won’t get food for months, Potter. You are aware it is nearly time for Supper?”_

_Harry tucked into the plate of biscuits as he sipped on a horrible looking chocolate concoction laden with whipped cream and tiny marshmallows._

_“It’s good. I love sweet stuff.”_

_“I remember.” Severus arched his eyebrow at Harry as he watched him eat and looked at the crumbs, which clung to his lips as he resisted the urge to reach across and wipe them away. “Did those Muggles of yours forget to feed you?”_

_It was a joke, but obviously a poor one as Potter’s eating stilled and the plate of biscuits were pushed away as he looked into his chocolate. Severus remembered the look from his own school days. Harry looked almost haunted and swallowed as if the biscuits might choke him._

_“They didn’t give me much of anything. They didn’t like magic very much.”_

_“Of course.” Severus remembered Petunia then, her face hard and pinched as he played with Lily and remembered the fists clenched and her sobs of anger and jealousy. “But they don’t harm you?”_

_Potter shrugged and grimaced at the biscuits as he sat back. “They aren’t kind.”_

_“I see.”_

_Severus looked at Potter and thought of his own assumptions that Potter had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He remembered another young, dark haired boy who used to eat as if he didn’t know where his next meal was coming from, who would flinch back from a quick movement or a raised hand. He watched Potter as he moved the spoon in his chocolate and wondered if he really knew Potter at all._

_“Don’t feel sorry for me.”_

_“I wouldn’t dream of it. Drink your chocolate – it’s a terrible waste to leave it unfinished.” Severus nudged the cup back towards Harry and watched as he picked it up and sipped at it. He noticed how the chocolate seemed to soothe him and felt a smile tug at his lips as Potter reached for another biscuit a little tentatively. “That’s it.”_

_Potter looked up at Severus, his eyes wide with surprise and a little confusion, but he didn’t say a word. A small grin spread across his face and then he began to munch on his biscuits again._

_“Wouldn’t do to let them go to waste.”_

_“Indeed it wouldn’t.”_

_Severus sat back and enjoyed the sight of Harry as the look on his face faded to one of contentment._

_All was well again._

Severus knew that Potter had left much about his childhood unspoken. He could understand the fear and the shame and the expectation that one simply deserved to be treated a particular way. He would watch Potter after that in the Great Hall and he would see how he shovelled his meal into his mouth more quickly than the Weasleys who would talk and laugh, taking their time over their meals not once expecting someone might snatch it from their grasp.

He remembered how he would look at his own empty plate at moments like that and then he would meet Albus’ eyes who would give him a fond sort of look as if to let Severus know he knew exactly where his gaze had been directed and why.

Damn Albus and his ability to pick up on everything.

Severus had always imagined Potter would give his own children everything Severus suspected Potter never had. He imagined them clothed in the latest fashions, bundled into their father’s lap, happy just to be with him. He imagined Harry’s face taking on that soft look Severus caught sometimes when Harry was older which took his breath away, and thought of Harry reaching over to twine his fingers with the youngest Weasley girl.

He didn’t imagine for one moment that Potter would be laying flowers at Severus’ grave, alone. He hadn’t contemplated the fact that Potter would mourn him at all, after the heady aftermath of the battle had settled. 

The lights dimmed again and Severus felt someone settle next to him again as he turned to watch the remainder of the play. The scene unfolded and Severus found himself riveted by the sight of the battle as he held his breath and waited for the moment of his death to come. He knew it wouldn’t be Nagini, there was nothing magical about the play and he watched as the protagonist fell with what he supposed must be a fatal wound. He watched as ‘James’ moved across the stage and held the hand of the dying man.

“Look at me.”

In that moment Severus saw what he had missed after he had passed out from the venom which rushed through his veins as his potions tried to combat the poison in his blood. He saw _Harry_. He watched through the tears and the pain and the aftermath as the man on stage left the world he had fought for behind him forever.

The final scene was years later as the protagonist sat at his desk and read a poem out loud. Severus knew the words of the Muggle poem but he was surprised that Potter had thought of it. He sat back and closed his eyes as he listened to the words.

_“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied_  
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!   
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;   
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;   
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,   
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;   
But last year’s bitter loving must remain   
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.   
There are a hundred places where I fear   
To go,—so with his memory they brim.   
And entering with relief some quiet place   
Where never fell his foot or shone his face   
I say, “There is no memory of him here!”   
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.” 

The lights on the stage dimmed as the scene shifted and the young man stood by the grave and bowed his head.

Severus couldn’t move as the curtain fell, and he wondered if he wasn’t in shock until the person next to him caused him to snap out of his reverie as they shifted in their seat. He could feel them looking at him until he was just ready to turn and snap when they spoke.

“You look good, Severus. Considering you’re supposed to be dead.”

The voice next to him was rough and cold yet still achingly familiar, and Severus stilled in his seat praying to any deity that might exist that the lights wouldn’t go up until he could control his expression. He was suddenly all too aware of the rustle of cotton at his side and glanced down to see a hand which rested on a thigh clad in expensive suit trousers. There was a band on the finger of the hand which bore a crest which was all too familiar to Severus. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by the fact Potter was wearing a suit, or the fact he seemed to be wearing a Black family heirloom on the finger one would typically expect to see a wedding band. He recognised the ring as being the one Draco would wear from his sixth year onwards and wondered how on earth it had come into Harry’s possession. 

“And you and Draco are supposed to be sworn enemies.” He heard the sneer and the dry note to his voice and hated himself for it, but it was all he could think of in response – the bitter old man jealous over losing something he had never had.

“Things change.”

“Indeed. Then you’re bonded – you and Draco?”

“We’re _what?_ ”

That, at least, was familiar to Severus and his lips quirked into a smile at it, despite the fact his heart seemed to be aching in a most unpleasant fashion. The spluttering and indignant response sounded so very Potterish he could almost picture Harry glaring at him through his round glasses, his hair all over the place and his cheeks flushed as he ranted about Severus being the most miserable prat he had ever had the misfortune to encounter.

“The ring.”

“Was a gift, but we are most certainly not bonded – are you mental?”

“Quite possibly.”

They sat in silence for a long time as the crowd cheered around them. They both stood in their seats and Severus felt Potter’s shoulder brush his own, and then felt Harry flinch away from him which caused him to scowl as he clapped slowly for the actors who came on stage for their standing ovation.

“Did you enjoy it, then?”

Potter’s voice was still cold and Severus felt himself tense at the note of fury he could hear just below the surface.

“Very much. It’s very well written.”

Potter snorted beside him, and Severus heard a ragged breath being drawn as the lights came up.

“Well I suppose I should take that as a compliment. You have no view on the subject matter?”

“Do you wish me to express one here?”

Severus was met with silence and then he heard Potter scribble something down and felt a piece of paper crumpled into his palm. He noticed Potter’s hands were cold and clammy. Harry’s hands had always been warm.

“This is where I live. I am leaving now to go for drinks with the cast. I will be home in a few hours.” Potter paused and then spoke in a rough tone, his voice thick with emotion. “One hour. You owe me that, at least. Frankly you owe me the last five years but for now…I am asking for one hour.”

“I make no promises, Potter.”

“It’s Black – Potter doesn’t exist anymore.” Potter paused and sighed. “And no, I don’t suppose you do.”

As quickly as Potter had come, he was gone, and Severus finally allowed himself to turn to try to see Potter through the crowd. He caught a flash of pinstripes and a shock of black hair, but then Potter was gone. Severus looked at the note crumpled into his palm and opened it slowly, the messy scrawl as familiar to him as Draco’s elegant hand and he noted the address was for a property in the East End of London, far away from his own Soho abode. He supposed that was why he had never bumped into Potter, not that he would have necessarily seen him even if they had been neighbours. London was that sort of place. He knew how the East End had changed in the past few years and imagined Potter sitting with a trendy young crowd, wearing skinny jeans and smoking a cigarette talking about poetry and art. He snorted at the image which was as far from the Harry he knew as possible.

Severus slipped his hand into his pocket again and felt the cool metal of the silver lily against his skin and wondered if he would recognise Potter at all anymore. The suit and the ring had thrown him and the darkness of the play had left him shaken, not to mention its subject matter.

_“Time does not bring relief: You all have lied.”_

The words rolled around Severus’ head, and he thought of the wretched desperation on the face of the lead actor as he had placed flowers at a grave with no body buried beneath it. 

“Flowers for a Ghost.” Severus murmured the words to himself and left the theatre. He stopped just before the exit and counted out his coins to purchase a glossy programme with the picture of a lily on the front and thumbed through it before he took the note in his hand again.

_“Frankly you owe me the last five years…”_

With a sigh, Severus hailed a taxi and climbed inside, where he recited the address he had already memorised by heart. The East End was unfamiliar to him, and the buildings which passed through the taxi window were distinctly different to his own part of London. The taxi pulled up outside a large converted warehouse, and Severus paid the fare ignoring the disgruntled look he got after leaving a particularly miserly tip. With a look up at the building, he took a breath and went indoors. He took the stairs until he reached the flat at the very top of the block. He looked around him and pulled his wand from his pocket, surprised when he detected no charms, no wards and absolutely no trace of magic whatsoever. With a muttered Alohamora, he opened the door and shut it behind him. 

Severus looked around the flat and drew a sharp breath. The floor to ceiling windows stretched out with views of the London skyline and the walls were covered in graffiti art and huge paintings. The rest of the walls were lined with books, hundreds of them, with an entire mezzanine level fitted to accommodate a library. The whole room was open plan with a large super king sized bed set low on the floor in one corner, neatly made with crisp white sheets and just a splash of blue. Severus flicked his hand to light the space and resisted the urge to look around. He sat down on the sofa in the centre of a polished wooden floor, and crossed his legs a little uncomfortably as he wondered if maybe he should have waited outside.

Potter was rich – there was no doubt about that. The flat was huge and filled with expensive touches, from the art to the chrome kitchen expensively equipped. Severus shivered in the cold because the flat was opulent, clinical and there was absolutely no trace of Harry anywhere in it. There were no photos, no broomstick lodged against the door for people to trip over and no pile of socks littered by the bed. Severus closed his eyes for a moment.

_“Potter! I nearly broke my neck tripping over that blasted broom of yours – why are you incapable of cleaning up after yourself?”_

_“It’s just a broom, Professor – it’s not my fault you billow those robes of yours all the time and knock everything onto the floor.”_

_“I do not billow, you twit.” Severus supposed that wasn’t strictly true, but he wasn’t about to let Potter know that the action took rather a lot of careful practice. That wouldn’t do at all._

_“You really have to do this?”_

_Severus walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place and saw Potter frowning into his half-finished Butterbeer. They were the only people that went there now that the Order had turned against Severus for his hand in killing Albus and believed the house to be unsafe. Potter and he had managed to disable the wards and traps which were waiting from them, courtesy of Alastor, and it had become something of a retreat for them both as Potter continued his hunt for the Horcruxes with Granger and Weasley._

_“You know I do.”_

_“But it’s dangerous. You might get hurt.”_

_“I get hurt every day, Potter – the Dark Lord has a wonderful sense of whimsy when it comes to torture. Don’t trouble yourself about it, you have to keep yourself focused.”_

_“I don’t want you to get hurt.”_

_Potter continued to stare into his Butterbeer looking forlorn, and Severus sighed as he took a seat next to him and placed his arm on his shoulder to squeeze it for a moment._

_“I am quite capable of looking after myself. I have played this game for many years, I am prepared for every eventuality.”_

_“You won’t leave me?”_

_The way Potter looked up at Severus then made his heart constrict for a moment as he pushed the feeling down. Trust Potter to look like a kicked puppy dog and pull at even his heart strings._

_“I’m going to be there until the end.”_

_“And what about after?”_

_“I don’t make any promises, Potter. I can’t make any promises. Just know I will do everything in my power to protect you – all of us will – Molly, Arthur, that wolf of yours – even Draco, I believe, in the end – we will all fight for you.”_

_“I don’t want anyone else to die.”_

_Severus inclined his head with a hum of agreement, unable to offer the boy the comfort he most likely wanted where that particular comment was concerned. He startled as he felt Potter lean against him and brushed his hand through his hair, shushing him gently._

_“Neither do I.”_

Severus sighed and opened his eyes when his thoughts came to an end, and blinked as he saw Potter in the kitchen, his back to Severus as he poured two glasses of wine.

“You’re awake, then?”

“Yes.”

Severus noticed Potter didn’t turn around, and sat a little straighter as he felt oddly nervous.

“You let yourself in.”

“Indeed. I was hardly going to wait outside in the rain.” Severus paused and then realised it might have been a little rude to presume to come into the flat before being formally invited and softened his tone. “I didn’t look around, I just came in and sat down – I am not one to pry.”

“I remember.”

Potter turned around, then, with the wine glasses in hand, and Severus felt his breath leave him as he took in the sight before him. Potter didn’t wear glasses anymore and his face was dark with stubble. His eyes were green with dark flecks and his face was set. There was no grin and the lines on his face were a little more pronounced than they had been during the trials of the Death Eaters. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. He was rakishly good looking with an air of Sirius Black about him in the way he lounged casually against the side, the expensively tailored suit and the messy hair which was a little longer than Severus remembered. His face held the same expression Draco often adopted during the war, a snooty sort of mask to hide the fear he was feeling whenever he was placed in the company of Riddle. 

It didn’t suit Potter. It made Severus want to throttle him.

“You look…different.”

“Yes. Well I’m a grown man now, Severus.” 

Potter walked towards him and handed him a glass of wine, which Severus sniffed and then sipped tentatively. It was expensive, smooth and rich. 

_“Merlin, that’s horrible.” Potter pulled his lips into a grimace and made a face as he pushed the wine glass back to Severus. “If that’s fine wine, you can bloody well keep it.”_

_“You can’t drink Butterbeer all your life, Potter – you have to grow up sometime.”_

_“No I don’t – adults drink Butterbeer.”_

_“Very seldom.” Severus sipped his wine and contemplated Potter with a slow smirk. “I think you have a Peter Pan complex.”_

_“I do not.” Potter looked offended and then wrinkled his nose as he looked at Severus before he grabbed the wine and took another couple of deep swigs. “It’s not that I don’t want to grow up…”_

_“It’s that you think you might not have the opportunity to do so?” Severus arched an eyebrow at Potter and snatched back his wine with one of his best glares at Potter. “Stop guzzling it like it’s Pumpkin Juice – you described it as vile a moment ago.”_

_Potter shrugged and gave Severus one of his trademark grins before he sat back in his chair and looked out of the window, lost in thought._

_“I hope I never grow up. It seems like everything gets more complicated. I’ve had enough to deal with and I’m only seventeen. What’s it going to be like when I’m thirty?”_

_“And thirty is so very very old, I suppose?” Severus sighed and then looked at Potter with a low murmur into his wine. “You should be careful what you wish for.”_

“I remember a time you weren’t so very fond of wine.” Severus tipped his glass at Potter who shrugged, his face the same strange implacable mask.

“I could hardly drink Butterbeer for the rest of my life.”

“I see no reason why not.” Severus sipped his wine again and then placed it down carefully as he looked at Potter. “I am surprised you are not yelling at me – you always used to.”

“I was a foolish child.” Potter stared into his glass with a frown and Severus felt his own brow furrow. Even Potter’s speech was careful, controlled and with none of the laughter and mirth Severus remembered.

“I don’t believe you were so very foolish – despite my frequent protestations to the contrary.”

“Oh?” Potter looked up at that and Severus noticed for the first time a familiar fire behind his eyes, his eyes almost angry looking like they had been when Severus had pushed into his mind and seen his most treasured secrets. “If you didn’t consider me to be a foolish child, why would you leave me?”

“I didn’t leave _you_ , Potter.”

“Who else would you have been leaving? Draco? He believes you’re still alive – he never told me of course, but he hinted at it, I just couldn’t believe it was true. I couldn’t believe you wouldn’t have stayed. But then I saw you, when I…” Potter trailed off and then stood and moved to the kitchen counter, leaning against it before he gulped down the remainder of his wine with a wince and poured a second glass before he walked back to his seat.

Broken, Severus thought. Potter looked older, bitter and broken. He had hard edges and a sandpaper-rough tone, which hid his usual light voice full of teasing laughter and gentle condemnation. Severus watched the man in front of him who struggled to contain his emotions with a clench of his knuckles and a Malfoy-mask, and he wondered what the hell had happened to Harry, and if he, Severus, had been the cause.

“If it helps, I have no idea how Draco knew I was alive. I made quite sure he would have no idea.” Severus paused and then continued. “This was a mistake.” He didn’t make a move to leave despite his words. They sat in silence for what felt like an agonizingly long length of time. “I should leave.”

“Probably.” Potter’s voice held no emotion but Severus could hear the tremor in it and the brittle fragility behind his response. “I hate you, Severus.”

Potter’s voice was cool, and it was only the hours with Potter as he bounded through Grimmauld place and slid along the floor in his socks that stopped Severus for a moment before he could stand. He wasn’t sure if he could, even if he wanted to. 

He was tired. So very tired.

“I imagine you do.”

“What made you come to see the play tonight? Did you have any idea?”

Severus frowned and shook his head slowly. “I suspected, perhaps. There were a few too many coincidences for my liking – I thought I should see for myself, satisfy my curiosity.”

“I see.” 

“I am surprised to see you like this – a playwright living as a Muggle…I had expected something rather different for you.”

“Is that so?” Potter spoke in the same carefully measured tone as he sipped slowly at his wine. “I am surprised you thought of me at all.”

Severus chose not to respond to that for the time being. He doubted now was the time to tell Potter how frequently he thought of him. Severus watched as Potter placed his glass down and stood to pace a little towards the kitchen, where he leaned against the counter with his back to Severus and drew a ragged breath. 

Severus focused on his walk as Potter made his way to the kitchen and noticed it seemed off somehow – like Potter was in pain or not quite able to hold himself upright. He frowned as Potter leaned against the counter and kept his back to Severus. He looked at the tight lines of Potter’s shoulders and the tension there and sighed. He had not imagined Harry to be like this – this wasn’t the Harry with the garden and his friends around him that Severus imagined when he allowed his thoughts to stray. This man was someone Severus wasn’t sure he knew at all.

“Perhaps I should leave.” Severus made no move to stand and he listened to the soft snort from Potter, the sound making him inexplicably angry. “Is something the matter?”

“No, of course not – what could possibly be the matter?”

Severus glared at Potter’s back. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Potter. If you wish me to leave, I will happily do so. You need only say the word. I would like to remind you that you are the one that invited me here.”

“I suppose I did.” Potter nodded and then turned at last to face Severus again and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to go.” He moved back to his seat with the same sort of awkward movement Severus had observed a moment before.

“Then I will stay.” Severus sipped a little more of his wine and set it down next to him as he eyed Potter carefully. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine.” Severus flinched a little as Potter snapped at him, but didn’t miss the flush which rose steadily over his neck and to his cheeks.

“You’re lying. Show me.”

“No. I won’t.”

Severus growled low in his throat. “Stubborn Gryffindor. You are clearly in pain.”

“I have been in _pain_ for five years, Severus – another day or two won’t make much difference.” Potter glared at Severus and put his wine down so it sloshed over the side of the glass. 

“I see…” Severus eyed Potter and picked up his own wine taking a slow sip and then placed it back down. “I suppose we should talk?”

“Yes.” Potter looked reluctant and then looked down at his clothes. “I might change.”

“Of course, I won’t look.” Severus nodded and stood himself to stretch his legs, which were sore and cramped after his time in the small seats at the theatre with no room to manoeuvre. He moved to the kitchen and trailed his fingers over the granite work surface as he took in the brushed chrome and clinical black and white colour scheme. Everything was polished and new, as if this was a kitchen which people looked at rather than cooked in. It didn’t suit the Potter he remembered – none of the surroundings did.

Severus took care not to look over at the bedroom area as he heard the shuffle of drawers being opened and closed and a rustle of clothes. He tried not to think about some of the thoughts he had sometimes had about an older Harry – an older _unmarried_ Harry, because there was no place for that sort of fantasy in his life. 

Finally, after a long moment of silence, he felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder and he turned. His breath hitched for the second time that evening at the sight of Potter and finally a little something of _Harry_.

“More me, I suppose.”

It wasn’t quite there, but the smile was closer to the Potterish sort of smile that had driven Severus to distraction on numerous occasions in the past as Potter stood before Severus in his tight t-shirt which accentuated the lines of his body. His faded jeans were ripped at the knee and looked far more comfortable than his expensive suit. Severus flicked his eyes along the length of Potter’s body and noticed his feet were bare. 

“Indeed.” Severus nodded and moved back to the sofa as he waited for Potter to sit down opposite him once again. He looked at the hand Potter used to clasp his wine glass and noticed his knuckles were white from gripping it so tightly.

“Not what you expected, I suppose?”

Severus looked around the apartment and shook his head slowly, because as tasteful as it might be, it was cold and unwelcoming – like any other apartment in any other city in the world. There was no sign of the Harry he remembered anywhere.

“I expected something more homely, I suppose.”

“Ah.” Potter nodded for a moment and then gave Severus another one of those strange smiles without much humour. “A home to me has always been about family. I couldn’t very well make a home with only me in it.”

“I see.” Severus contemplated his glass for a moment as he was in no position to talk. His own flat was as cold and bare as Potter’s was. He took a careful sip before he raised his eyes to Potter. “You have no interest in family, I take it? I had believed before I left you were likely to be married shortly after the war.” He felt his face flush a little as he thought of the play he had just seen which revealed Potter’s feelings in full detail and he grimaced slightly. “I understand why that wasn’t to be now, of course.”

“Yes. I could hardly marry Ginny when I was in love with someone else.”

“No, I suppose not.” Severus felt in his pocket for the silver lily and felt the cool metal relax him slightly, as it always did. “Are you happy at least?”

Harry snorted again and looked at Severus incredulously. “Do I appear to be?”

“No. Not in the slightest.” Severus replied. He noticed a flicker of something which appeared to be satisfaction flicker across Potter’s face and wondered at it. “Do you believe that is something to be proud of?”

“Hardly. I am just surprised you noticed.” Potter looked at Severus and rolled his eyes for a moment before glaring at him. “Ginny, Severus? I always thought you were a hell of a lot smarter than that.” Potter frowned for a moment and then quickly amended his words. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Ginny – there’s nothing wrong with her at all – I am just surprised you thought she was my type. I thought I was obvious enough about things during the war.”

“I suppose I may have wondered for a moment.” Severus inclined his head and thought he should give Potter that, at least, and watched as Potter blinked owlishly at him and then glared.

“But you left, nevertheless?”

“Yes.” Severus nodded and then frowned at his wine before he flicked his eyes up to meet Potter’s stare. “You were seventeen years old. I have read about the sort of relationship that can develop between men thrown together to fight a war – I could hardly believe yours to be anything other than a fleeting interest which would quickly fade when the Dark Lord was vanquished.”

“You should have known better.” Potter glared again and then looked away, focused on a spot behind Severus’ head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“I suppose not.” Severus looked at Potter and thought about the play he had watched and the fact Potter didn’t exactly seem to be jumping for joy at the moment and sighed. “If it is any consolation I am not sure I would have left, had I known for certain.”

Potter nodded and then contemplated his own drink before he began to speak again, his voice taking on the same rough edge it had when he had first arrived back at his flat. “I always thought you were a brave man. I thought if I could have just a little of your courage, I could do whatever I needed to do, when it came to it. I thought of that before I went to face him.”

“And now?” Severus raised his eyebrow at Potter who spoke in the past tense once again.

“Dumbledore said something to me – after the spell was cast and I thought I was dying. I saw him, you see – at Kings Cross.” Harry smiled at the memory and Severus could see him now – at last. “He said, ‘Do not pity the dead…. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart.’” Harry looked at Severus and sipped his wine before he continued. “So I don’t think you are brave anymore, Severus.”

“I see.” Severus inclined his head at that for a moment and then looked up at Harry again. “A brave man would have stayed and lived.”

“Yes. We are cowards, both of us. I don’t spend time with many from that world anymore myself, it would be hypocritical of me to pretend otherwise. But at least I did not allow people to mourn me.”

“Had I known my death was going to cause such a reaction, I may have found a way to leave word.” Severus wasn’t sure that was true, but his fingers brushed against the lily in his pocket again and he frowned a little. He wondered why he _had_ been in such a rush to leave Potter and his world behind. He felt sure something was missing but he couldn’t remember what – why he had the silver flower in his pocket and why he would have assumed Potter would be better off without him.

“It wasn’t just me, you know. Molly and Arthur lost their son. Arthur always appreciated time with you. He came to your grave with me a couple of times. Then there is Draco…”

Severus thought of Arthur and Molly as he had sometimes, and he imagined Molly still setting the place for the son who had been killed – one of the twins, he had heard, just before he had left. He flicked his gaze to the ring on Potter’s finger again and wondered about Potter’s relationship with his godson.

“You and he are clearly close, now – Draco, I mean?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded and Severus noticed the way he turned the ring on his finger as he talked, doing so subconsciously as if he wasn’t aware of his actions. “He misses you. Very much. He lost his father, you know – just over a year after the war.”

“I was not aware.” Severus ignored the pang he felt at that news. Whatever kind of man Lucius may have been, he had been Severus’ oldest friend and he knew how hard the loss would have hit Draco.

“He went mad in Azkaban. Took his own life in the end.” Harry kept his gaze on Severus and Severus felt a shiver run through him as he thought of that.

“And Narcissa?”

“Remarried. Another Pureblood, old money. She was a mess for a couple of years after Lucius died but she found someone in the end. It didn’t suit her to be alone, she is much happier.”

“Draco?”

“Is fine.” Harry began to twist the ring on his finger again and sighed. “I suppose you are wondering how this all came about?”

“It sounds as though you had things which brought you together.”

“Yes. We became close at the Wizengamot trials, but we only really became friends when Lucius died. I met him by your Portrait. I used to visit it all of the time. He was the one that told me you weren’t coming.”

“He did?” Severus tried to mask his surprise at that as he turned his eyes to the floor and then sighed as he supposed he should tell the truth. “I Obliviated him, so he would forget he had seen me by your body.”

Harry snorted and drained more of his wine with a grimace. “Blimey, you really didn’t want to be found, did you?”

“No.” Severus shook his head and placed his glass down as he thought for a moment about how best to phrase his words. “I seem to recall that I asked him to Obliviate me too and I believe he did. Certain memories of that night are…lost to me.”

“What did you want to forget so badly?” Harry’s eyes were inquisitive and Severus rolled his eyes at Potter.

“If I knew that you little twit, the spell would hardly have worked.”

“There must have been something.” Potter glared at him and then cocked his head to one side. “Is there anything which you _do_ remember?”

Severus felt in his pocket for the little silver lily and after a long moment he withdrew it and put it on the table. “I found this in my robes after the war. I have no idea how it came to be in my possession, but I have kept it ever since.”

Potter moved and picked up the small flower which he dropped into his palm and then turned it over while he closed his eyes and appeared to be thinking as he swallowed and bunched his hand into a fist for a moment.

“You don’t remember how you got this?”

“No.” Severus glared at Potter again and leaned forward a little. “Well spit it out, Potter – you clearly know exactly how it came to be in my possession.”

Potter opened his eyes as if surfacing from a daydream and then placed the silver lily back on the table as he looked at Severus for a long moment.

“I have no idea.”

“ _Stubborn_ bloody Gryffindor.” With a growl, Severus snatched back his lily and pocketed it before he jabbed his finger at Potter. “You know exactly how I received this – it is written all over your face.” 

“I am not sure you will want to know.” Potter looked at Severus with a composed gaze although his cheeks had heated a little under the scrutiny.

Severus growled low in his throat again and then settled back in his seat, his legs crossed carefully and looked at Potter. “You will not be moved on this?”

“Not now.” Potter tilted his chin a little defiantly, and Severus saw a spark of something flash behind his eyes and made a frustrated sound before giving Potter a curt nod.

“Perhaps in time.” He moved to pick up his glass again, his mind racing at the thought of the silver flower in his pocket and wished he could remember what he had tried so hard to forget. He paused for a long moment and then sipped his wine to steady himself before he changed the subject. “You were telling me about Draco.”

“Yes.” Potter nodded and seemed relieved Severus had decided to drop his questioning for now and continued with his story about Draco. “He protected me during the war when I was captured, as you know.”

Severus remembered very clearly. They had talked about it after all for rather a long time afterwards until they were both exhausted from yelling.

_“You need to exercise more caution, Potter – the Dark Lord has eyes and ears everywhere.”_

_“I was cautious – how was I to know there was a spell over saying his name for Merlin’s sake?”_

_“You always barge into things without thinking, one of these days you are going to get yourself killed like that house elf of yours.”_

_“Don’t you dare!” Harry’s voice cracked as his cheeks still streaked with tears flushed an angry red and he moved to Severus furiously. “Don’t you make fun of his death.”_

_“I’m not making fun of him, Potter – this is no laughing matter. Miss Granger was nearly killed and we almost lost everything in that one moment of stupidity.” Severus heard himself snarl as he fisted a hand into Potter’s jumper until they were nose to nose. “Does it appear as though I am laughing?”_

_“No…” Potter slumped for a moment in Severus’ arms and then pummelled his chest, his hands bunched into fists. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”_

_Severus let Potter hit him until he stopped and clenched his hands into Severus’ robes as his body heaved with sobs._

_“I know, Potter. I know.”_

_Severus wrapped an arm around Potter as he relaxed him and held him while he wept._

Potter’s voice brought Severus from his thoughts and he listened to him speak. He allowed his eyes to move over the contours of Potter’s face – of _Harry’s_ face - and the lean, firm lines of his body as Potter told his story, quite happy to take advantage of the fact that his attention was elsewhere.

“He saved me again, during the Battle. I rescued him from the Room of Requirement and then he made his way to the Shack, somehow. I think he wanted to find his mother. Voldemort asked them to check my body to be sure I was definitely dead and Draco squeezed his mother’s hand and said I was. She went along with it but I believe they both knew I was alive. Narcissa didn’t care at that point, she simply wanted to protect Draco.” Harry smiled a soft sort of smile and looked far away for a moment. “I suppose it must be a mother’s instinct.”

“Yes, I suppose it must.” Severus nodded and thought of Lily for a moment, remembering how she laughed when they played together as children and felt an ache of sadness for Potter at missing that in his childhood. He looked at the ring on Potter’s hand and arched an eyebrow. “And the priceless family heirloom you wear so casually? Are you telling me you and he are really just friends?”

Potter looked at Severus with a startled sort of expression again and then nodded. “Yes, I really am telling you that. Malfoy is married and his wife is pregnant with their first child. He is no more interested in me than I am in him.” Potter looked at the ring on his finger and then back up at Severus as if he hadn’t quite understood the importance of the ring to Draco. “Wearing it like this diverts some unwanted attention, I suppose. He gave it to me on the opening night of the play. He said if I was going to use the name Black, I should have something from the family. It was sort of a joke. He said it was a much superior name to Potter anyway.”

Severus laughed at that as he imagined Draco giving Harry an expensive, treasured possession as a gift and making it sound as insignificant and insulting as possible. “I see.” He looked at Potter and took in his surroundings once more as he shivered a little at the empty feel to the place. “Do you still do any magic at all?”

“Rarely. I do have my wand, although I don’t need it anymore.” Potter held out his hand and the wand flew across the room and landed in his palm. It took Severus a moment to realise the wand Harry held wasn’t his old wand at all, but the Elder Wand and he felt his mouth go dry.

“That is…”

“The Elder Wand, yes.”

“Then you have…”

“All three of the Deathly Hallows, here in this flat.” Potter hummed and turned the wand over in his fingers before he placed it down by the side. “Not that they are of any use to me. I was never able to use them for the purpose I intended.”

“No?” Severus looked around again and closed his eyes until he could feel the hum of magic from the wand. “You are the Master of Death, are you not?”

Potter laughed and the sound was brittle and dry.

“I suppose I am – whatever that means. I don’t think it means anything at all.”

“No?” Severus looked curiously at Potter and watched as his eyes flickered to a spot on the wall and took on a distant look.

“No. I thought perhaps it might make a difference, but it appears I misunderstood what it meant to master Death, even though Dumbledore had made it perfectly clear to me.”

“How so?”

“I thought there might be a way to bring someone back.” Potter looked at the wand and then shook his head. “But I don’t believe there truly is. Not through using the Resurrection Stone, or through any magic which can be conjured through the Elder Wand. Because once someone dies, they are lost to you forever and all we have are our memories.” Potter looked up at Severus and spoke quietly, his voice hoarse. “Or so I used to believe.”

“I see.” Severus looked at Potter and then watched him set his wine down and caught his wincing again. He heard a low growl in the quiet room and realised he had made the sound as he watched Harry move uncomfortably. “You are clearly in pain, Potter – I insist that you allow me to do something.”

“I said I am _fine_.” 

Severus looked at Potter’s fists curled up and the way an angry flushed heated his cheeks and growled again. "Stubborn little brat. Let me help you.” Severus stood and moved quickly to Potter before he could protest again and held out his hand. “Up.”

With another glare at Severus, Potter sat for a moment and then stood and pulled his t-shirt over his head with a hiss as he clutched at his side for a moment, his breathing unsteady and spoke through gritted teeth.

“It is an old injury. From the war.”

Severus moved his fingers over the fresh red marks on Harry’s torso which stretched across his side. The deep gashes looked raw and similar in shape and size to the claw marks of a werewolf, but they should have healed into scars after this length of time. He tried to ignore the slight shiver from Potter and kept his touch light and clinical as it took all of his strength not to drink in the sight of Harry.

“These should have healed long ago. They look almost fresh. What caused them?”

Potter shrugged and the move made him wince a little more. “A hex, I think. I don’t know much about it, to be honest. They…reopen…on occasion.”

“I see.” Severus traced his fingers lightly again and then moved back a little. “When did these reappear?”

“When I saw you, in the theatre.” Potter kept his voice low and then stepped back from Severus. “I have something I can put on it.”

“Something Muggle?”

“Yes, of course something Muggle – where do you imagine I would get potions for magical hexes living as I have done for the past five years?” 

“I should have thought that wand of yours would be able to cure most hexes.”

Harry looked at Severus and nodded. “Perhaps, if you know what the hex actually is.”

Severus frowned and then nodded, looking around. “Very well, where is your medicine cabinet?”

“It’s fine, I can do it.” Potter moved to a small room just outside of the studio and Severus followed him. He thought of the scars on his own back, marks of a time he would much rather forget and shuddered at the thought of those marks reopening at will.

As Potter took out a tube which looked highly unsuitable for his wounds, Severus flicked his gaze to the numerous pills on the shelf of the cabinet before he looked back at Potter to pretend he hadn’t seen them. Clearly he hadn’t been quick enough because Potter glared at him and ushered him out of the bathroom.

“Sleeping pills. I sometimes have nightmares.”

“About the war?”

“About everything.” Potter didn’t elaborate and then opened up the tube, smearing some white cream which had a clinical smell of antiseptic about it onto his hand. Severus bit back another growl as he watched Potter dab at his wounds.

“Don’t be such a bloody martyr, Potter – lie down and let me do it properly. I can assure you I am not going to begin making inappropriate advances if that’s what worries you.”

“Oh bloody hell, you won’t give up will you?”

“No. Not until I have satisfied myself that you are taking care of yourself properly or at the very least giving the wounds an opportunity to heal.” Severus watched as Potter lay down on his bed and felt a smile tugging at his lips briefly as he perched on the bed and reached for some tissues. “Green – how very Slytherin of you.”

Potter snorted and closed his eyes. “If you’re going to insist on doing this, just get on with it.”

“Very well.” Severus dabbed the cream into the wounds and flinched a little as he saw Potter grit his teeth against the pain before he examined them a little more closely and murmured almost to himself. “I could brew something for this I expect. Something more suitable.”

“Really? Do you have cauldrons on the stove, Severus? Perhaps a basement somewhere full of eye of newt and toe of bat.”

“Hardly. I would need to get some supplies, but I suppose with a Glamour…” Severus trailed off as he thought of how he might get what he would need from Knockturn Alley and wondered if he would be able to brew in his flat. He suspected with a little Transfiguration it might be possible. He shook himself and finished putting cream on Potter’s wounds and then sat back as he tried to fight the urge to reach out and brush Potter’s hair back from his forehead.

“I can get up now, I feel better already.” Potter looked as if he was about to stand and Severus pushed him back gently giving him another glare.

“Don’t be so ridiculous. You should get your rest, I will go.” He stood from the bed and looked at Potter, stretched out against the sheets and fought back his desire to move to the bed with Potter.

“Will I see you again?”

Severus turned and closed his eyes to the voice he remembered so clearly. He heard the nervous hesitation, the words which Potter left unspoken and he clutched his hand around the silver lily in his pocket as he nodded.

“If it is not too much of an imposition, I wish to come back tomorrow with some remedy for your injury. I have an idea which I think might just work, although I will need to purchase some texts and some ingredients.”

“You don’t have to – not on my account.”

Severus turned back to Potter and managed a small smile. “I am well aware I don’t have to, Potter. Perhaps I simply wish to. Do try not to get yourself into any further trouble while I am gone.”

With a final nod, Severus turned and left the flat. He stopped outside the door and leaned back against it as it shut behind him and he closed his eyes. He thought of the image Potter made stretched out on the bed, of the nervous look in his eyes and the sound of his voice. He sighed and opened his eyes again. After a long moment when he didn’t hear any further sound from inside the flat, he made his way out into the darkness.

OooooOOooooO

_“I told you to empty yourself of emotion! ... Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”_

_They were back in the dungeons and Severus had his wand pointed at Potter, his breathing coming quick and fast._

_“Empty myself of emotion…” Potter hummed thoughtfully and then turned his back to Severus for a moment before he turned back to face him once more. “Like this, Severus?”_

_The Potter which stood opposite Severus no longer wore his school uniform and his face held none of the youthful exuberance Severus remembered. Potter held the Elder Wand in his hand and gave Severus the same cold sort of look that sometimes marred Draco’s face as his face held a hint of arrogance, a hint of his godfather._

_“No, Harry – not like that.” Severus reached for the boy but found nothing but air and shadows in his hand._

_“What’s wrong?” Potter frowned at Severus as he twirled his wand lazily between his fingers. “I’m simply doing as you asked.”  
“You misunderstood me.”_

_“I don’t think so.” Potter shook his head slowly and then smiled with no humour. His eyes glinted black and green in the half-light of the dungeons. “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” He winced and clutched his side again and hissed. It sounded like Parseltongue._

_Severus stepped towards him and held out a hand to him, unable to touch him once more as his hand found only darkness._

_“You’re in pain, let me help.”_

_“It’s nothing – just the wounds of the past.”_

_“Time is a great healer.” Severus’ words sounded distant and hollow as Potter faded before him and he tried to make a futile grasp for him again._

_“Liar.”_

_The dungeon was empty and Severus was alone once more, his wand outstretched and the sound of cold laughter filled the room. His Mark burned and he heard the whiplash sound of leather through the air as a young boy started to cry._

_“Harry…”_

_His answer was silence._

Severus woke, his body bathed with sweat and his breathing ragged. He took a moment to steady his breathing and then closed his eyes once more.

Tomorrow he would go to Knockturn Alley.

OooooOOooooO

It had taken Severus some time to get his Glamour just right. He had made his appearance as innocuous as possible with sandy hair and plain hazel eyes which were very different to his usual black stare. He supposed he couldn’t do much about the fact the only robes he had were old, tattered and black but he expected no one would look twice at his attire. They were weekend robes at least, he had destroyed his teaching robes not long after coming to London. He was fortunate to have one pair left at all.

He reached into his wardrobe and pulled out the one other set of robes he had kept, although these would not afford him any anonymity. He spread them out onto the bed and looked at them for a long moment. Of all the things he could have kept, Severus wasn’t entirely sure why he kept these. He supposed they were a reminder of his past and another of his many mistakes. In a strange way he wondered if he hadn’t kept them to remind him not to make similar mistakes again. He couldn’t be sure.

_“What news from Hogwarts, Severus?”_

_“All the preparations are in place, my Lord.”_

_“And the boy?”_

_“Still no word.”_

_“No matter – soon I shall have everything in place and then he will not be able to stop me.”_

_Severus flinched at the cold laugh as he knelt on the floor before Voldemort. His knees ached from the cold stone but he determinedly did not shuffle or move in his position. It did not do to show weakness in front of the Dark Lord given his particular sense of whimsy and cruelty._

_“Very good, my Lord.”_

_“I thought I might bring the boy out of hiding with an attack on his family. He is close to the Weasley family, is he not?”_

_“Perhaps at one time that was the case.” Severus cursed to himself and tried to frame his words carefully. “I understood they had drifted somewhat. He doesn’t know the older boys at all, I believe.”_

_“But they are like family to him nonetheless? The Muggle loving fool of a father means a lot to the boy?”_

_“I believe he has not been truly close to anyone like that since Black, my Lord. He has not seemed as close to others as he once was. Even the youngest Weasley boy and the Mudblood, whose company he used to so enjoy, have been sighted without him. I truly believe he is operating alone.”_

_“But there are those that protect him, of course?”_

_“Naturally, my Lord.”_

_There was a pause and then the Dark Lord rested his hand on Severus’ shoulder._

_“Very well, I will continue to bide my time. I have priorities other than launching a large attack at this stage. With the old fool gone, his supporters are greatly weakened. You may leave me now.”_

_“Thank you, my Lord.” Severus shifted about to stand when the hand on his shoulder applied a steady pressure._

_“You forget yourself, Severus.”_

_The name was almost a hiss and Severus felt bile rise in his throat as he bowed his head._

_“Apologies, my Lord. You show much mercy.” With the sick feeling still rising in his stomach, Severus bowed his head lower and prostrated himself on the floor until his lips touched the black boots underneath the robes of the Dark Lord. He could hear the laughter and felt a rush of shame as he kissed both boots and then rose back onto his knees._

_“Leave me.”_

_“Yes, my Lord.”_

_Severus stood and heard his knee crack as he did so. As he turned to leave, he heard the Dark Lord laugh and murmur something about boredom._

_The scream left his mouth as the red bolt from the Cruciatus curse hit his back as it snapped and arched under the force of the spell._

_He fell to his knees yet again and waited for the Dark Lord’s sport to end._

Severus shivered as he looked at his robes and then pushed the memories which filled his senses to the very back of his mind. He took the robes from the bed and then pushed them into the wardrobe. He shut the door on them and moved from his flat until he could reach a spot where he could safely Apparate.

After a moment, he found himself by the sign for Knockturn Alley and he began to walk. He could feel the crackle and hum of magic around him and drank it in, not even realising how much he had missed it until it filled his senses. Severus had wondered if Knockturn Alley would still exist after the war. It seemed like a street dedicated to the business of dark magic might lose patronage in a brave new world, but it seemed that was not to be the case. The street was hardly busy, but there was sufficient interest to indicate that most of the shops which had existed as far back as Severus could remember had survived Potter’s victory over the Dark Lord.

He moved swiftly to the shop he used for his Potions stocks during his time as a Death Eater and nodded once at the man behind the counter while he browsed the shelves.

“Anything in particular you are after?”

“Thank you, no. Just browsing for the moment.” Severus intended to get his ingredients from a couple of different stores. It was typically unwise to present the owner of such a store with a list which might indicate exactly what was being brewed.

“Have you heard the news, Sir? About Harry Potter?”

Severus stilled and then shook his head for a moment.

“I have not. I do not frequent these parts and I typically avoid reading the _Prophet_ as I find its stories to be littered with inaccuracies. What of him?”

“They reckon he’s really the Malfoy lad – the one running for Minister. Reckon he uses Polyjuice and that Malfoy’s son was killed during the war.” The man tutted. “Shame about his father – he was one of the good ones.”

Severus winced and took a couple of jars from the shelves with a non-committal hum.

“I see. Potter still hasn’t been seen then?”

“Not in the last three years. Disappeared, didn’t he, around the same time the Malfoy boy starts getting involved in the Ministry. All very suspicious, I reckon.”

“Indeed.” Severus masked his smirk as he turned to another shelf to select another ingredient. “He’s likely to win, then? Malfoy, I mean.”

“Blimey, you really haven’t been around much, have you?” The man nodded vigorously as Severus turned to look at him. “’Course he’s going to win. It’s not likely to be that other idiot, whatshisname. Particularly not if everyone thinks he’s Harry bleedin’ Potter.”

“Draco, Draco…how very Slytherin of you.” Severus murmured quietly under his breath, quite sure from the way Potter had spoken the previous night that Potter was fully aware of Draco’s plans. He supposed a rumour or two couldn’t hurt Draco’s path to success and wondered at the state of the Wizarding world now if a Malfoy – and a former Death Eater – was being allowed to run for such a position. He could only suppose Draco had done a rather good job of redeeming the Malfoy name after the war.

“Will that be all?” The man flicked his gaze to the clock and Severus assumed his lunch break must be coming up. He took another jar and moved to the counter with a nod. 

“That will be all.” 

He handed over his money, which he had dug out from his spot under the sink by his Order of Merlin, and paid for his goods as he shrunk and pocketed the bag of ingredients. 

Severus moved swiftly from the shop and towards Diagon Alley. When he finally reached the narrow street, the hum of magic took his breath away. He saw the posters with Draco’s face on them, urging the public to vote for him. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was packed full, as usual, with laughing young witches and wizards bundling in through the doors and coming out with colourful bags. The signs indicated the shop was under new management and Severus wondered at that.

He made his way to purchase his final ingredients and then wandered slowly through the streets, taking in the sights of everything he remembered. He carefully remembered all of the smells, the magic humming and crackling around him and the laughter as he moved along. 

“I don’t know what Potter’s thinking. I’m beyond furious with him.”

Severus stopped and ducked into the shadows as he heard the tip-tapping of expensive brogues and the cultured tones of Draco as he stopped by the entrance to the alley Severus had ducked into. He was standing with an attractive woman with dark hair and porcelain skin who looked as if she was from old money. Her clothes were well tailored and expensive and she looked particularly well-polished.

“What _has_ he done this time?” Her tone sounded amused as she settled a soothing hand on Draco’s arm.

“He was supposed to come to the Manor today to help me with my campaign and he didn’t turn up. I even had the house elves make some of those awful chocolate things he likes.”

“You love chocolate.” The woman’s voice dipped into a purr as she kissed Draco softly on the cheek. “I’m sure they won’t go to waste.”

“Yes, well. It is just inconsiderate.” Draco huffed a bit and then grimaced. “I just hope he’s not had one of his turns again. He needs to stop mooning over Severus – the man clearly isn’t coming back.”

“You still believe he’s alive then?”

“Of course he is.” Draco snorted softly. “If anyone would have had the foresight to take anti-venom when living with a giant snake for that long, it would have been Severus. His body was never found and he has never been seen in his portrait. Not to mention, I am quite sure he is the one who Obliviated me.”

The woman hummed thoughtfully as they started walking again. “Why don’t you have some of those chocolate cakes delivered to Harry?”

“Yes…well…perhaps I might.”

Severus moved out of the shadows as the conversation faded away into nothing and Apparated back to his flat.

_“He needs to stop mooning over Severus.”_

Severus felt his heart pounding more quickly and flicked his wand to begin to transfigure various pots and pans for brewing as he thought about Potter.

All he wanted to do now was to prepare the Potion and then go to see him. With a sigh, he shook his head and then began the careful process of brewing, the methods once so familiar to him coming back to him quickly as he settled in to wait, the old feeling of his magic humming around him once more.

OooooOOooooO

It was nearly ten o’clock when Severus arrived at Potter’s flat with the vial of healing Potion clutched into his hand. He rapped on the door once and then waited for a long moment before the door opened. Severus looked at Harry and sucked in a sharp breath as he took in the haunted look on Harry’s face and the fact his eyes seemed red rimmed. His face was covered with the shadows of dark stubble as if he hadn’t slept since Severus left the night before.

“Potter?”

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

Severus pushed past Potter as he didn’t seem to be willing to let him in and put the potion down on the surface of the kitchen table before he turned back to Potter.

“I said I would. I have spent all day working on something for your injury.” Severus looked at Potter carefully, thinking he looked rather unwell with his face as it had been last night, cold and hard. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes…I thought you weren’t coming, it’s fine.” 

Severus watched Potter who looked dull and lifeless and let out a low growl.

“Get yourself into bed, now.”

“I’m-”

“Not another word, Potter, otherwise you will have more hexes to add to your collection. Now get into bed.”

Severus pointed at the bed which looked rumpled as if Potter had been lying down before Severus arrived and then busied himself in the kitchen. He noticed a small box unopened on the side and recognised Draco’s elegant script on the label. He looked at it while Potter curled up in bed and sighed.

“Have you eaten today?”

“I haven’t really felt like it.”

Severus grumbled a complaint under his breath and opened the fridge to see a block of mouldy cheese and a half-finished bottle of wine. He opened a number of cupboards which were filled with expensive crockery, but no food or herbs and spices. He finally found one lone tin of tomato soup and emptied it into a saucepan, heating it as he turned back to Potter who had curled into a ball, his chest bare and his jeans still on. When the soup was fully heated, he poured it into a mug and moved to the bed with the potion in his other hand and nudged Potter.

“Up. Have something to eat. No arguments.”

Potter sat up and Severus looked more closely at his face and his swollen eyes and mentally cursed himself for not sending word to Potter about when he intended to arrive. He supposed he could hardly blame Potter for thinking Severus might disappear again, as he had given Potter no reason with his previous behaviour to suggest he might stay.

“Thank you.” Potter sipped the soup gingerly, and then as it cooled, took bigger mouthfuls until the cup was empty. He looked disappointed when he realised there was nothing left and set it down on the side as he frowned at his hands. “Must have been hungrier than I thought.”

“Quite. I believe you have chocolate cake from the Manor.”

Severus felt his lips quirk as he saw the way Potter looked up, his eyes wide as he began to smile at the thought of chocolate.

“I do?”

“Yes, you do.” Severus put the Potion down and then flicked his want with an Accio which brought the box to the bed. He opened up the box and handed Potter a cupcake which appeared to be chocolate layered with more chocolate with chocolate swirls decorating the butter cream and a flake on the top. “There. You must start eating properly, but as you appear to have nothing in the house that is edible, this will have to suffice for now.”

“I can’t believe Draco sent these – I thought he would be mad at me.” Potter tucked into the cake and talked with his mouth full for a moment before swallowing while Severus plucked the card from the box and cleared his throat and began to read.

“ _Potter._

_I can’t say I am particularly happy with you after your failure to make the appointment at the Manor today. We have lots of work to do and you are being completely unhelpful._

_If you were pissed last night and you have a hangover today, then I had the house elves put something vile in the cupcakes. If you didn’t then they are fine, and we hope you are alright._

_Let me know by return when you will next be available._

_D.A. Malfoy._

_P.S. Astoria says to look after yourself. I couldn’t care less what you do, naturally. Prat._ ”

Severus laughed at the end of the note and heard Potter laugh too as he flicked his eyes up to meet Potter’s amused stare.

“He’s a right git, but the cupcakes are just about good enough to make everything worth it.”

“Indeed.” Severus plucked a cupcake from the box and looked at Potter and then the cupcake. “That good, hm?”

“Yep. But you don’t like sweet stuff.”

“As a rule, no – chocolate, however…” Severus took a bite of the cake and savoured the flavour as he closed his eyes with a moan until he had finished his mouthful. “Chocolate is…acceptable.” He opened his eyes to see Potter staring at him, his mouth agape and he arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re quite alright?”

“Fine.” Potter raised his hand and Severus noticed there was a tremble to it as Potter brushed his thumb over Severus’ lip. Severus closed his eyes again for a moment and tried to resist the urge to take Potter’s thumb into his mouth or to lean closer to him.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“You have chocolate…just here…” Severus felt Potter’s thumb leave his mouth and was about to open his eyes again when he felt lips against his own, warm and insistent. 

With a moan, Severus fisted his hand in Potter’s hair and returned the kiss. It had been so bloody long and Potter was strong and warm and tasted of chocolate. He thought of the dreams he sometimes had, which left him sweating and sticky and kissed Potter more firmly as he pushed him down onto the bed and settled over him. He smoothed a hand over Potter’s uninjured side and felt a shiver of pleasure at the feel of his body which was lean, toned and warm.

“Severus….”

He was so busy kissing a line along Harry’s throat, which tasted delicious, he nearly missed his name being spoken into the quiet room. Reluctantly, he pulled back and met Harry’s stare as he ran his hand over his side lightly.

“I haven’t done this before – I don’t…I can’t…”

Severus pulled back and lay next to Harry largely so he could think straight. He tangled his hand into Harry’s hair and pulled him closer for a light kiss before he moved away. “Potter…Harry…relax, we don’t have to do anything, not if you don’t wish.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” Harry looked at Severus, his lips plump and red from kissing. 

“Then I will not leave, not if you wish me to stay.”

“I do. Please.”

“Very well.” Severus pulled Harry into his arms and reached for the sheets to pull them up and around them both. He lay back and looked at the ceiling as he carded his hand through Harry’s hair and felt the thick strands around his fingers.

“I sometimes…I sometimes have nightmares.”

Severus hummed his understanding, and he held onto Harry more tightly.

“As do I, Harry – there is no shame in it.” He heard Harry snuffle a little at that, and felt his lips quirk into a smile as he pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. He lay for a moment in silence and then snorted softly. “You are aware the wizarding population at large seem to believe you to be spending your time Polyjuiced as Draco?”

Harry laughed at that and nodded against Severus. “We thought it might help him and deflect attention from where I actually am at the same time.”

“Very Slytherin of you both.”

Harry chuckled at that. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He burrowed into Severus and then frowned up at him after a moment. “We haven’t used your potion.”

“It will keep until tomorrow unless you wish to do so now?”

Harry shook his head against Severus and Severus heard him yawn.

“I’m tired – didn’t really sleep last night.”

“Fine. Then sleep now.” Severus kept his fingers moving through Potter’s hair as he felt the warm body next to his own relaxing.

“Yes – sleep now.”

As he held onto Harry, it was a long time after that when Severus finally closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him.

OooooOOooooO

When Severus woke, he rubbed his eyes to adjust to the dark room, unsure where he was until he remembered his strange night with Potter. The room was still dark and Severus supposed something must have woken him – he could barely have been asleep for more than a couple of hours.

He felt Harry shift next to him and he turned to watch him, propping himself onto his elbow. There was a light sheen of perspiration on Harry’s forehead and torso and he seemed distressed. His face was pulled into a grimace and his breath came in ragged gasps.

“No…please no.”

Severus watched as Harry seemed to flinch away from something and noticed the way his throat was working as he recognised the silent tears of sleep. With a careful touch, not wanting to jostle Harry too unexpectedly from his dream, he reached for him.

“Harry. It’s just a dream, wake up.”

He repeated Harry’s name a couple of times and felt it as Harry seemed to wake slowly while his breathing steadied and he put his arm over his eyes.

“You’re not really here.”

“Harry…look at me.” Severus nudged Harry a little more now until finally he opened his eyes and turned to face Severus.

“Severus?”

“I said I would stay.”

“I remember.” Harry looked at Severus for a long moment. “I didn’t believe you.”

Severus nodded once and then reached out for Harry who moved towards him at speed to curl up at his side.

“I imagine it will take time…for you to trust me.”

“Yes.”

Severus let Harry settle and then spoke quietly into the darkness.

“Draco’s Mark – do you know if it is still….active?”

“Don’t think so, it faded into a scar after the war he said. He thanked me for it once, in a roundabout sort of way.”

“I’m sure he did.”

Severus thought of the way his own Mark still burned at times and of the ugly blotch and furrowed his brow as he stared at the ceiling. He thought of Harry’s wounds down his side which continued to open and felt something nagging at him. 

“Is your Mark _active_ then? Why would that be?”

Potter sounded more awake now and Severus shushed him a little as things began to fall into place. 

“It couldn’t be…”

“What? What couldn’t be?” 

Severus hadn’t realised he had spoken aloud until Harry answered him and he shook his head.

“I don’t wish to say until I am certain. I need a book, a book on Dark Arts – the Malfoy’s have it in their collection, I believe.” He quickly scribbled down the name of it. “Would you be able to request to borrow it?”

“I’m sure I can.” Potter sat up now and looked down at Severus. “I can Fire Call Draco tomorrow.”

Severus looked around the flat and then noticed the fire at the other end by the dining room table and snorted.

“You still use _some_ magic, then?”

“Only for speaking to Draco.” Harry pulled a face. “He won’t use email.”

“I can’t say I blame him.”

Severus was only half aware of Potter speaking as his thoughts continued to formulate in his mind. He thought of the dreams he sometimes had when he woke bathed in sweat and of the numerous memories which snatched him from reality at times and pulled him back into a past he had tried to forget.

“Severus?”

He shook his head a Potter’s question and turned to him. “There is no point is discussing what may or may not be. I will know more when I have the book.” He looked at Harry’s side for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but otherwise fine.” Harry looked at Severus as if he wanted to say something but caught himself.

“Do you want me to try the Potion now?” Severus reached for the vial he had placed on the side and with a nod Harry lay on his back, his head pillowed on his arm.

“Will this do?”

“Yes.” Severus bit back a moan at the sight of Harry sprawled out on his sheets, a trail of dark hair leading down his stomach and disappearing out of sight under the waist band of the pants Harry was wearing. Severus could see the jeans he had put on were pooled on the floor and imagined Harry much have been overly warm during the night. 

“Are you quite alright?”

“Yes…I…” Potter let out a groan at Severus’ words and looked at him, his cheeks flushed. “It feels…good.”

“Is that so?” Severus gave Harry one of his better smirks and then trailed his fingers over Harry’s chest as he watched the rise and fall of Harry’s ragged breathing. “The Potion or simply being… _touched_?”

“Severus….” With a moan, Harry arched into Severus’ hand and Severus dipped it lower, holding his own breath. When Harry didn’t seem to be complaining in the slightest, he shifted so he could press his lips to Potter’s neck and then squeezed his hand firmly over Harry’s cock through his pants. Harry’s answering hiss and curse gave Severus his answer and he pushed his hand into Harry’s pants with a moan as he captured his lips in a kiss.

Severus felt the hot, velvet weight of Harry in his hand as he kissed him and fisted his cock in smooth sure strokes. His own cock was aching hard – it had been a long time since Severus had touched anybody like this or had anyone touch him back. He moved his free hand to his buckle and pushed down his trousers before he moved over Potter and aligned their cocks together with a groan as he began to thrust harder, both captured in his hand as Potter writhed and bucked up beneath him.

“Can you come like this?” Severus’ voice was rough and ragged in the quiet room and his only response from Potter was a long moan before he snapped his eyes open and let out a breathless chuckle.

“Oh, I imagine I can.”

“ _Good._ ” Severus moved over Harry more quickly and clenched a hand into his hair to pull him into a fierce kiss as he felt Harry jerk and buck beneath him and then shudder into completion, his own satisfaction following a moment later.

“ _Very_ good, I would say.” Harry laughed when he had managed to get his breath back as Severus rolled off him and tilted his head on the pillow to look at Harry.

His face was flushed and his lips spread in a wide, happy grin. This was the Harry that Severus remembered, and he leaned over to kiss his cheek because of it.

“Welcome back.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Harry turned on his side now, too, so his eyes were focused on Severus and he grinned another Potterish sort of grin.

“Maybe.” Severus chose not to elaborate further and then smirked at Potter for a moment. “Do you think you might have more pleasant dreams now?”

“I think I just might.” With another quick grin, Harry chuckled and then closed his eyes with a yawn. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Of course you are.” Severus lay back as he heard Harry’s breathing settle into a slow quiet snore beside him and he absentmindedly traced his Mark as he let Harry’s breathing relax him, deep in thought.

OooooOOooooO

When Severus woke he found the room was bathed in sunlight and he was alone in the bed, his body tangled in the sheets. He looked around for some sight of Harry and saw him perched on the bed, fully dressed and watching Severus as he held up a book.

“I got it – that book you wanted.”  
“Thank you.” Severus sat up and pulled the sheets around himself, very conscious that Harry was fully clothed while he still appeared to be stark bollock naked. He glared at Harry for that and tried to ignore the smirk Harry gave him. He took the book and opened it out on his lap as he patted the spot next to him in a motion which suggested Potter might want to join him.

The bed dipped and Harry sat next to him as he looked over Severus’ shoulder as he flipped through the pages before he reached one which caused him to linger.

“What? Have you found something?”

“I’m not sure…” Severus traced his fingers over the page and frowned. “The Potion I have brewed at least is adequate, I am certain but there may be something more.”

“Oh?” Harry leaned in closer and Severus had to bite back a moan.

“You are somewhat distracting, Potter.”

“What do you mean? I’m being quiet…oh…” Harry trailed off and Severus turned to see his cheeks had flushed. They were close enough that Severus could feel Harry’s breath on his lips.

“Yes. Quite.”

“I don’t mean to be.”

“No, of course you don’t.” Severus said drily and then sighed as Potter seemed to be hovering even closer to his lips. “Yet you are, nonetheless.” He tangled his hand into Harry’s hair and pulled him close for a kiss as their tongues slid together and he nipped at Potter’s lip.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” Harry pulled back and glared at Severus for a moment and then pointed at the book. “Let’s just read your bloody book.”

Severus startled a little and then shut the book firmly and put it on the side before he turned to face Harry properly. “Is something the matter?”

“Is…is something the _matter_?!” Harry looked incredulously at Severus and threw up his hands. “What on earth would be the matter?”

“I do believe that writing theatrics has gone to your head.”

“You..” Harry spluttered now and Severus watched him as he waved his hand around in a gesture which didn’t seem to be really doing anything other than perhaps making Harry feel a little better. “I can’t believe you haven’t bothered to mention it – the play or…or _anything_.” Harry glared furiously at Severus and held up his hand to stop Severus from talking. “I _loved_ you, you fucking _bastard_ and you let me go through the last five years thinking you were _dead_.” Potter spat out the words with fury and anger as magic began to hum and crackle around them. “I loved you with _everything I had._ ”

Severus thought about reaching a hand out to comfort Potter, but decided against it in favour of glaring down his nose at him in a way which he hoped might stop the insufferable little twit from ranting and raving. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Potter – you were a seventeen year old boy, what would you have known of love?”

Harry stared at Severus for a long time and then laughed. “Everything. Everything and nothing, I suppose. I knew all about dying for love, about killing for love too. I suppose I didn’t know much about romance but I’m not sure that’s the same sort of thing.”

“Perhaps not.” Severus looked closely at Harry then. “You cannot blame me for assuming you might one day have a desire for family – for something more than I would be willing to give?”

“You might have given me the bloody choice.” Harry’s fury was making him so like the Harry Severus remembered. He felt his heart beat quicken just at the sight of it – the sight of Harry coming back to him. “I had killed and watched my friends get killed – I wasn’t like any seventeen year old. I had to be a man for the war, why not for this?”

Severus thought of the Firewhiskey he had poured Potter the night before the battle and nodded his acceptance at the statement. “There is that.”

“You knew, though – you knew then, that I loved you before you saw the damn play.”

“I had my suspicions you had feelings, but I would never have imagined them to be…that…” Severus felt the word catch in his throat and winced at it.

“I loved you.” Harry’s voice cracked on his words and the past tense didn’t escape Severus’ notice. He thought of Harry, young and confident and _handsome_ wallowing in self-pity in this clinical flat and he felt strangely furious. 

“I see.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Harry’s hands were balled into fists and Severus shook his head.

“No. I might ask you why you have hidden yourself away in this sterile environment for the past four years with the Deathly Hallows in the back of your wardrobe. I might ask you why you have a cupboard in the bathroom brimming with pills of every sort of description.” Severus growled low in his throat. “And do not tell me that is because of _love._ ”

Harry looked startled for a moment, his eyes wide as he looked at Severus and then he slumped a little.

“Perhaps I told myself it was that at first.” Harry shook his head and then rubbed his forehead as if his scar hurt him. “It was _everything_ \- I couldn’t bear to be reminded of it, I suppose. Then I would spend time with Ginny and she wouldn’t understand half of it although she lost a brother and she fought too, when she could. It was different. Being covered in blood and hearing the spells every night and holding people while they died. I couldn’t be reminded of it anymore. I thought you would understand and Draco did, in part. It’s one of the reasons we became close, why I kept going to your Portrait – I wanted to talk to someone who had been there too, I suppose. Ron and Hermione had each other and there was no one else.”

“I see.” Severus pursed his lips a little and looked at Harry. “And the pills? And do not insult my intelligence by telling me they are sleeping pills.”

“Some of them are and then there’s stuff for headaches and all that.” Harry paused and Severus waited for him to continue. “I went to the doctor – a Muggle doctor – found out a bit about a Muggle war and told him I had fought in it, told him I couldn’t sleep, that I had nightmares and flashbacks and that I would get sort of…anxious…about stuff which wouldn’t ever phase me. Loud noises in crowds and things like that. I was furious all the time too – angry at everyone and everything. I think I forgot how to laugh for a while there.”

“I see.” Severus nodded slowly and continued to listen to Harry as he flicked his eyes over his face and noticed the lines he had seen at the Wizangemot, where he least expected them. There were no laughter lines, at all, although, thankfully Harry was still young enough to have few lines marring his features.

“He reckoned it was something called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He gave me some pills for it which I take pretty regularly and I see someone. A Muggle. They listen to me talk about stuff but I have to be careful – not to let anything slip, that is.”

“And does it help?”

“I think perhaps, yes.” Harry nodded slowly and then looked at his hands with a frown. “This Muggle I see reckons it could be linked in to my childhood too – she makes me talk about my Uncle, when I’m able.”

“Ah – yes, I remember he was not…kind.” Severus thought of the fists on the young body and shuddered a little beside Harry. He paused and then continued slowly. “And the Hallows? What of them?”

“I know there is the legend – all the Master of Death stuff – but I honestly don’t think they do anything. Nothing at all.” Harry looked at Severus and shrugged. “I keep the cloak because it was my dad’s before it was mine. I keep it as something to remind me of him and for no other reason. The stone just sits in a little box and I used it once, when I was trying to find you again after a particularly bad night. You never came and I always wondered why not. In some ways it was a good thing, because I thought of the story – of the brother going mad from calling someone back that he loved – and I went to see the doctor the next day.”

“And the wand?”

“I don’t use it. I don’t really do magic anymore so I don’t need it. I know it’s powerful and I can feel the magic, but I don’t think it’s _bad_.”

“I suppose not.” Severus looked at Harry thoughtfully. “Will you promise me one thing, at least?”

“Yes. If I can.” Harry nodded and looked curiously at Severus.

“If you ever decide to enter the Wizarding world again for whatever reason, I want you to give up the wand and find a replacement. It would not do to go back waving the Elder Wand around. My short time back in that world today convinced me there are still plenty of people who would savour an opportunity to get their hands on such a thing.”

“I don’t think I will go back, but…yes, I can agree to that.” Harry nodded and then he turned to Severus with a small quirk of a smile. “You were always such a miserable bastard. But I missed you. Very much.”

“There’s no need to be insulting, Potter.” Severus sniffed a little at his words and then pressed their foreheads together for a moment. “I am here now.”

“For how long?”

Severus thought about that and reached his hand to cup Harry’s cheek for a moment.

“I suppose for however long we can both stand it.”

“I’ve put up with you for long enough, Severus – I can’t imagine it will get too much for me anytime soon.”

“We shall see.” Severus took in Harry’s grin and tangled his hand into his hair to tug him nearer until their lips brushed lightly.

“What about the book?”

“It can wait.” Severus pressed his own dry lips hard against Harry’s and kissed him as he pushed him back onto the bed. 

Someone moaned as Severus felt a shock of long forgotten desire burn through him once again as Potter kissed him back, and he raised his lips to Harry’s ear, his voice dipped into a low purr which sounded rough around the edges.

“Will you stop me, this time? Or will you trust me?”

“I…” Harry hesitated just for a moment and then he arched under Severus and whispered his response. “I trust you.”

“You should.” With a tacit acceptance, Harry tugged Severus back into a kiss and he settled over Potter for a moment before nudging his legs apart. He was met with no resistance and he nipped at Harry’s ear as he trailed his fingers over the inside of one of his thighs. “Do you have any…lubrication?”

“I…yes.” Severus could feel Harry’s cheeks hot against his skin and smirked into his neck before he pulled back to look at him as a tube whizzed through the air with a muttered Accio and landed on the bed.

“Why would you be embarrassed, Harry? It is perfectly natural to keep such things around for whatever purposes as may be required.”

“Don’t be an arse.” Harry’s cheeks flushed a deeper red and he scowled half-heartedly at Severus as Severus squeezed some of the slippery substance onto his fingers and settled back between Harry’s legs, sliding his fingers back behind his balls to rub in circles at the spot there. He delighted in Harry’s deep groan and nipped at his neck.

“I am not being an _arse_ I was simply-”

“-Severus?”

Harry’s voice was breathless and rough as Severus worked a finger slowly into him, biting back a moan at the tight heat.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Shut up and fuck me.” With another moan, Harry pressed back towards Severus’ hand and Severus chuckled at Harry’s words, giving him one of his best smirks as he curled his fingers to watch Harry cry out when his fingers brushed the spot inside Harry that Severus had been looking for.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Severus took his time with Harry, sliding his fingers deep into him and working him open. He moved down Harry’s body and flicked his tongue over his cock before taking him down to the root, moaning his approval as Harry bucked and writhed until he felt hands clenched in his hair and Potter was coming hard down his throat. He savoured the flavour and then moved off Harry, carefully sliding his fingers out of him and arranging him just so.

“Merlin…”

“Just Severus will do fine…or _Professor_ on occasion, perhaps.” With another smirk at Harry, Severus pushed into him slowly and rubbed his hand over his hip to ease the passage, murmuring words of encouragement as he watched Harry’s hands clench into the sheets and heard him let out a strangled sort of sound.

When he was fully seated, Severus began to move and settled back over Harry to place hot kisses along the column of his throat as he worked his hand between them to stroke Harry’s cock firmly.

“Oh _gods_ …”

“There?” Severus shifted his angle a little as Harry arched his back sharply underneath him and began to move more quickly in deep, firm strokes as he kept his hand working over Harry and focused on every expression on his face. “Can you come again?”

“Fuck… _yes_ …”

Severus hummed his approval as his own breathing became more ragged. He captured Harry’s lips and moved more erratically as he felt heat coil in his stomach and bit down hard on Harry’s neck to mask his own cries - the biting appeared to tip Harry over the edge and he felt the body beneath him shudder and his hand became slick as Harry clenched around him as he came. The movements around his cock pushed Severus to his own orgasm and he captured Harry’s lips in another kiss which felt hot, messy and unpractised.

As he shuddered to completion inside Harry, Severus felt his Mark burn again and he growled into the kiss as Harry kissed him back.

Harry’s arms twined around his neck and their salt-water lips moved together as damp cheeks pressed against one another, and in a moment of absolute clarity, Severus remembered.

_The Dark Lord sneered at the body on the ground and moved to the Shack to rally his troops as Severus took his opportunity. He darted out from the shadows and sank to his knees at Harry’s body._

_“Harry….fuck….Harry….breathe – gods, breathe you fool – you little fool, breathe – breathe.”_

_“S-Severus? You died….”_

_“No…Harry…look at me, look at me.”_

_“Are you my Guardian Angel?”_

_Harry smiled at Severus, his lips smeared with blood and death, his left arm at an awkward angle as he pressed a small silver lily into Severus’ hand and his head fell to the side._

_“Harry…”_

_“Always…always planned to give you flowers after the war.”_

_Severus held Harry’s hand and felt its warmth and dimly realised there were tears streaming down his cheeks as he let out a ragged howl._

_“I love you…you beautiful, stupid little fool. I love you.” Severus sobbed as he saw a figure in the shadows and pointed his wand shakily, dropping his hand when he recognised Draco who stepped forwards, pale and shaking, and fell to his knees opposite Severus._

_“S-Severus? Is he…is Harry…?”_

_“He’s dead.” Severus handed Draco his wand and bowed his head. “Obliviate me. I taught you enough to take just what I need.”_

_“What?”_

_“Make me forget that I love him.”_

_“But…”_

_“Draco! Nothing else, just that.”_

_Draco trembled and then nodded once, and raised a shaking hand to Severus. “Obliviate.”_

_Severus closed his eyes and when he opened them again he felt calmer somehow, his mind strangely empty and he looked at the wand in Draco’s hand and snatched it back. He turned to Draco who was looking at him with frightened eyes._

_“Forgive me. I am sure I had my reasons, and I am sure they were correct.”_

_Severus stood and turned to leave. When he had walked for a safe distance from the scene of Potter’s body, he turned and saw Narcissa approaching Draco with Bella as the Dark Lord sent a flash of green and a Morsemorde into the sky. With a flick of his hand before he could be discovered, he aimed his wand at Draco and whispered one word which would make Draco forget he had ever seen Severus by Harry’s body._

_“Obliviate.”_

_As he stared at Harry’s lifeless body before he turned and walked into the woods, he wondered why he felt as if everything that ever mattered was lost to him forever._

Severus looked up at Harry and saw his green eyes were wide with shock as he raised a trembling hand to Severus’ cheek.

“What happened? What the bloody hell just happened?”

“I came, if that’s what you mean, Potter.” Severus smirked at Harry and dipped his hand onto the dampness on his stomach to swirl his fingers there. “And it rather looks as if you did too.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Harry glared at Severus and then folded his arms trying rather unsuccessfully to put some distance between them.

“Ah.” Severus nodded and then looked at Harry who appeared to be holding his breath and he nuzzled into Harry’s neck to taste the perspiration there on his tongue and to breathe in the scent of him. He pulled back after a moment and raised his hand to Harry’s face and touched his cheek.

“It appears that I remember.” Severus reached his hand up higher and swept a little of Harry’s hair from his forehead and remembered how he had done that the night Harry died. 

“Everything?” Harry looked at Severus and he noticed how Harry’s gaze flicked to the little silver lily on the bedside table as he waited for Severus to answer.

“Yes – I remember that. I remember my actions and my words although I am not sure if you heard them. That is what I asked Draco to make me forget.” 

Harry shook his head and looked at Severus. “No, I don’t remember. What did you say?”

“I am not sure it matters now.” Severus toyed with the strands of Harry’s hair and then bent to kiss him. “I believe I will tell you again, one day. They were only words.”

“Oh.” Harry looked a little confused at that and then tipped his head to one side, finally unfolding his arms and wrapping them around Severus’ neck.

“If they were only words, why did you want to forget them so badly?”

“Because I believed you had died.” Severus sighed and dropped his head down to look at the floor for a moment. He supposed he really did not believe that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but he did not say that to Harry. “In the event of your death they meant nothing, and existed only to cause me pain.”

“Do you think it would have been different, if Draco hadn’t Obliviated you, I mean, and you had found out I lived?” Harry watched Severus, his face curious as Severus pondered the question.

“Perhaps.” Severus wondered if it would have been different, had he remembered on that night that he had told Harry that he loved him – had he remembered the silver lily pressed into his hand and the smile which told him Harry loved him back. 

Perhaps it would have made no difference at all. He had known, after all, that Potter had developed feelings of a sort for him and he had dismissed them as the foolish misunderstandings of a seventeen year old boy. He supposed it would not have been so very difficult to dismiss his own feelings in the same sort of manner.

“Where do we go from here?”

Potter’s voice was a quiet whisper in the room and Severus kissed his head before tangling his fingers back into his hair.

“I have no idea, Potter – no idea at all.”

OooooOOooooO

They found a little place in the countryside – somewhere with a fireplace so Draco could Floo and Fire Call and somewhere with a dining room table large enough to fit the Weasley family when they were finally ready to reveal their secret to those who mattered.

Severus sat in the garden and watched Harry as he crouched down and plucked a handful of tomatoes from the vines and placed them in a basket. No doubt he had concocted another recipe for supper that evening.

_“For a man who wasn’t overly fond of brewing and who never seemed to understand the difference between chopping and dicing, I am amazed you enjoy this as much as you appear to.” Severus swiped a bit of buttercream from Harry’s cheek and put it into his mouth with a contented hum._

_“Perhaps I work better when I’m not under pressure? Besides, most of the potions you brew taste bloody horrible.”_

_“Perhaps.” Severus smirked at that and then pressed Harry back into the counter and swiping a little more of the icing from the bowl as he offered his finger to Harry. “I am certainly not complaining.”_

_“No?” Harry took Severus’ finger into his mouth and began to suck it in a manner which was delightfully obscene before he released it with a pop. “Food is much more fun than potions.”_

_Harry dipped his own finger into the bowl and smeared some icing on Severus’ neck and then licked it clean as Severus let out a chuckle and dropped his hands to squeeze Harry’s arse and pull him nearer._

_“Do you know, Potter? I am actually rather inclined to agree with you.”_

It had taken time but the scars on Harry’s side had faded. Severus had shown Harry the book from the Malfoy library and the suggestion that the hex may have been a form of ancient magic which would cause Harry’s old wounds to reopen in conjunction with memories of the past which might upset him. For someone with Harry’s involvement in the war who suffered nightmares and flashbacks, such a hex would have caused him considerable pain for the rest of his life. It seemed one way or another, the magic which caused wounds to reopen had been stymied and Harry’s side now held just the faintest of scars. Harry said it was because of love, but Severus wasn’t Albus and he didn’t believe in such things. He thought it was because of the Potion he painstakingly brewed in the early days of their time together, which he applied to Harry’s side every evening as the sun went down and they lay together in their bed.

Harry had stopped taking his assortment of pills on Severus’ instruction although he still saw his Muggle doctor. Slowly, his haunted look left him and the solitude of the countryside away from the bright lights and bustle of a large city seemed to suit Harry well. He still had nightmares sometimes – they both did – but now when Harry woke, Severus made sure he was there to calm him back to sleep and the nightmares became dreams again.

Severus sometimes thought of Harry in the flashes of the burnt sienna sunset when the light caught his face and his smile moved across his lips and he looked at Severus with the grin Severus had always remembered in those five years he had lived without Harry. On those evenings, he sometimes saw flashes of his old memories of Harry, his hand twined with a woman with orange hair as he helped a young boy onto his broomstick and watched him fly. Severus wondered if Harry thought about what might have been. He supposed that Harry seemed happy enough, and Severus had no intention of questioning him and ruining their peace.

“You know, you never told me.” 

Harry dropped his basket on the ground and moved to Severus to crouch in front of him and take his hand in his own. With a snort, Severus reached down and pulled Harry up and onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around him. He was sweaty from his work in the garden and he smelt of soil and strawberries.

“Did I not?” Severus brushed Harry’s hair away from his forehead and kissed him lightly. “I was under the impression I had told you a great many things, Potter – or should I say _taught_ you a great many things.” Severus smirked against Harry’s neck and flicked his tongue against it, enjoying the way Harry squirmed a little in his lap.

“No. You never told me what you remembered, what you said when Draco Obliviated you, I mean.”

“No, I don’t suppose I did.” Severus paused for a moment and then murmured softly. “Or perhaps I did and you simply weren’t listening?”

“Oh.” Harry frowned and Severus kissed the lines of it. Of all of the lines on Harry’s face, it was those around his eyes that Severus enjoyed the most - the laughter lines that told Severus that Harry was happy. “Well, I don’t think I would have missed that.”

“They were just words, Harry – do you need to hear them, after all of this time?”

Harry looked at Severus for a long moment and then he laughed and kissed Severus on the nose which earned him a glare and a hard swat to his backside which made him yelp. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

Harry slid off Severus’ knee and picked up his basket.

“Are you going to start creating a mess again?” Severus eyed Harry’s eager looking face with some suspicion as he nodded back to Severus.

“Oh most likely – are you coming in? I like to have someone to talk to when I’m chopping.”

“I will be along in a moment.”

“Alright.”

Harry moved into the small cottage and Severus looked down at the Mark on his arm as the sun set. Like Harry’s scars, it had faded and turned into a scar rather than the dark black blotch it had been on his pale skin. He absentmindedly traced his fingers over it.

The Mark had not pained Severus for nineteen years. All was well.

~ _Fin_ ~


End file.
